Insurrection
by Errant Thought
Summary: Whatever happened to "good triumphs over evil?" Hermione Granger and Severus Snape become unlikely allies when the worst comes to pass and they are all that's left to rise against a victorious Voldemort and his legions. Will they succeed? Will they survive? Will it even matter if they try? :: Canon until Final Battle, but on a slightly longer timeline. Constructive reviews welcome.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _This is my first piece of fiction - I have an outline and the main plot points figured out, but I don't know what will happen to that plan along the way, so just sit back and enjoy the ride. While I hope the premise is unique, I have read hundreds of stories on this site and have undoubtedly been influenced by them. If you see anything you recognize (besides the world and characters created by the fabulous JKR), please let me know so I can give credit. And now, we begin._

When everything falls apart, time becomes fluid. Moments last for days, and hours pass in seconds. Hermione had long since lost track of how much time had passed since they had arrived in Hogsmeade and walked through the tunnel into Hogwarts. All she knew for sure was that dawn had not yet arrived, and she feared it may never come again.

In the chaos of the battle, she had become separated from Harry and Ron. They had been fighting their way through the courtyard when a massive stone wall collapsed thanks to two giants who were felled by Hogwarts' animated statues. She darted to the right, the boys dove left, all three just narrowly escaping the debris.

There was a brief moment of stunned silence while the dust settled, but then the fight resumed, with the crushed Death Eaters, giants and acromantulas quickly replaced by what seemed to be double the forces. There were no such reinforcements for the Light, which was massively outnumbered and quickly being decimated.

Hermione frantically searched for a way to rejoin the boys, but with three Death Eaters closing in around her, she had no time to maneuver around the rubble. Her wand arm was a blur as she flung spell after spell at her opponents. Two fell quickly to her powerful stunning spells, but the third was nimble and managed to evade everything she sent his way.

A burning hex sizzled as it hit her left shoulder and singed her hair, which had come loose from its elastic band. She ducked as another spell whizzed past her head – an entrail-expelling curse, by the looks of the unfortunate Seventh Year who happened to be fighting a Death Eater behind her. The boy's horrific scream and the gory scene distracted her enemies enough to give Hermione the upper hand – she disarmed and stunned her opponent before making her escape. She quickly darted through the crowd and was swallowed up by the smoke and bedlam around her.

Finding shelter behind a stone pillar at the very edge of the courtyard, Hermione wiped hair, tears and sweat from her face and sucked in air, desperate to catch her breath and figure out where to go and what to do next. Panic was setting in. Where were the boys? She had to find them! They were meant to face this together!

For three long years, they had been on the hunt for horcruxes. It had been incredibly difficult to decipher Dumbledore's clues, and once they had an idea of what their mission was, it had taken months to figure out where to begin. How can you find an object when you don't know what it is? How can you destroy all the pieces of someone's soul when you don't know how many there are? And how do you keep from sinking into utter despair when months pass by with nothing but hunger, pain and loneliness to show for your efforts?

There were many times when one or another of the trio wanted to give up. Harry nearly lost sight of the goal after their ill-fated trip to Godric's Hollow. Somehow, seeing his parents' graves and the site of their murders defeated, rather than inspired, him. Losing his wand in the attack just made it worse. He sank so low into misery that Hermione and Ron weren't sure he'd ever surface again. He eventually did, of course, but he often talked of leaving Britain, heading to South America, finding a beach and starting over.

Ron was no better, and in fact he did leave. It was months before he returned, shamed and apologetic. But he was never the same. Hermione watched him from time to time, when he didn't know anyone else was looking. She could see it in his eyes – an anguished look that spoke of utter despair. If Harry had actually followed through on his plan to ditch the war, there was no doubt Ron would have followed.

And Hermione? Her worst moments came at night, during those wee hours when she was on watch while the boys slept. Those were the times when her bravery wavered, her cleverness paled in the harsh light of self-examination, and doubt watched from the shadows, waiting for her to run out of ideas – to fail, like the stupid, worthless little Mudb- muggleborn she was. Who was she to think she belonged in this world? How can a mere slip of a girl make a difference in a war based on prejudices a thousand years older than she?

Yet, despite everything, they had pushed on, week after week, year after year. Sometimes they camped in that God-awful tent, sometimes they rested in an abandoned house or storefront, and sometimes, if they were lucky, they found (stole) enough money to stay at a muggle inn, just long enough for a warm meal, a hot shower and a decent night's rest in a warm bed. If ever they found comfort in each other's arms and bodies, they didn't discuss it the next day.

And now, after three horrific years, after what seemed like several lifetimes' worth of close calls and near misses, five horcruxes had been destroyed and it was just a matter of killing the snake, and killing the bastard. But how? Harry was depending on her logic and Ron's battle strategies to help him fulfill the prophecy. They're a team! She can't help them if she can't find them. And if she can't find them …

A wave of anguish passed over her, and she slid to the ground, nearly overcome with emotion. They can't fail now, not when they've come this far. Or can they?

A loud explosion shook the very ground on which Hermione sat and interrupted her reverie. She scrambled to her feet just as a wave of searing heat, glowing embers and jagged stones flew past her. She glanced up and saw that the pillar she was using for protection was starting to wobble. Quickly assessing her options, Hermione turned and ran toward the path that led to a stone henge. No sooner did she clear the area than the pillar – and the archway it supported – crashed to the earth, creating a domino effect that toppled the entire west wall of the courtyard and effectively blocked the path back to the battle.

_Think, Hermione, THINK!_

In the waning moonlight, she could see that the henge was deserted. Because of its location on the crest of a hill, the flat area on which the ancient stone circle sat would give her a panoramic view of the land surrounding Hogwarts. She ran toward it, hearing the sounds of battle fade away behind her.

Once she reached the henge, Hermione stopped and stood quietly, catching her breath and absorbing information. Just ahead, she could see and hear pockets of fighting near the edge of the Forbidden forest, which was illuminated by intermittent wandfire and punctuated by distant explosions.

To her left was the rocky crag on which stood the owlery. She knew there was nothing beyond that but barren cliffs and deep crevasses, which she could not safely traverse by day, let alone in the dark of night. To her right and behind was the castle, which was crumbling under the all-out assault of the Death Eaters. Even as she stood there, she saw the Astronomy Tower topple, no doubt taking everyone in or near it to their deaths.

There was still no sign of the boys. After some thought, Hermione decided the only thing she could do was drop down to the forest line and try to make her way around toward Hagrid's hut. From there, she could head back up to the castle. At least, she hoped she could – she'd have to avoid being seen or fight her way through enemy lines.

Reaching into her pocket, she grasped her fake galleon with a shaking hand and sent a message to Harry and Ron telling them her plans. Then she set off, wand at the ready and every sense on high alert.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry and Ron were fighting back to back, slowing working their way out of the courtyard so they could escape into the grounds below the astronomy tower. So far, their spells and hexes had hit their intended targets, but they could feel their magical energy draining. Adrenaline can only get you so far when your body has been running on empty for so many years. Neither of the young men could remember the last time they had a decent night's sleep or a full belly.

The night had been one long near-death experience. Harry had lost count of how many killing curses he and Ron had dodged, and he couldn't understand how they had escaped being crushed to death by the castle itself as it came apart under the onslaught of friend and foe alike.

The worst was when the wall fell, separating them from Hermione. So many wizards and magical creatures on both sides of the battle had been crushed. It really was a miracle that he and Ron had survived that incident with hardly a scratch. But did Hermione survive? Was she killed instantly, or was she trapped beneath a massive piece of the castle like so many others, where she would lay until she bled out or died from shock? Had she been captured instead?

Those thoughts terrified him, and he chanced a quick look around the courtyard, but he couldn't see her anywhere. _Where is she?_ Turning his attention back to the battle, he quickly stunned an approaching Death Eater, but no sooner did the spell leave his wand than Ron reached his arm around Harry's shoulders, gave a massive heave and threw them both to the ground.

"To the left!" Ron bellowed, just as they heard the groan and rumble of stone moving on stone. It was a chilling sound that warned of impending doom. They both ducked into a roll, and seconds later, the top turret of the astronomy tower crashed to the ground in the very space they had previously occupied. Debris flew everywhere and rained down on the boys, who had rolled to a stop some distance away and huddled on the sloping ground. Ron's hastily erected shield charm protected them from the worst of the projectiles.

A strange silence settled over the area. Risking a look around, Harry and Ron saw that they were alone. The massive tower had either crushed everyone or blocked them from reaching the patch of lawn where the boys now lay.

"Bloody hell, that was close," Ron muttered.

Harry was gasping for air and couldn't respond with anything but a nod. He was shaken by the fact that his wandering attention and concern for Hermione had nearly cost him his life. It was only Ron's sharp eyes and quick thinking that spared their lives.

They slowly sat up and their breathing slowed, each silent while they thought about their next move.

"We've got to get out of here, mate," Ron said.

"But where?" Then he shook his head frantically. "No. We need to go back. Hermione—"

"Hermione's on her own now," Ron said fiercely, cutting Harry off. "Look, we knew this could happen. We talked about it, the three of us, remember? I hate it just as much as you do, but we all agreed that if the worst were to happen to any one of us, the others would continue with the mission. _You'd_ continue with the mission, Harry, no matter what. We promised each other. We promised _her_."

"But—"

"But nothing, Harry! We have to move on! If she's alive, she'll be fine and she'll find us. And if she's not …" His voice wavered, and he looked away, his eyes shining in the glare of a fire that had broken out on a nearby wing of the castle.

Briefly closing his eyes, he gathered himself together and started again. "And if she's not, then she wouldn't want us to fail now on account of it. You know she wouldn't."

Harry looked torn, but after a few moments and a broken glance back in the direction of where they had last seen her, he nodded his head. "Alright," he said in a hoarse whisper. "Alright, let's go."

They stood on shaky legs and dusted themselves off, checking for injuries. Remarkably, aside from a few scratches, neither had been injured in the battle so far. Ron stretched his lanky frame before scanning the grounds before them.

"Now, where would I be hiding if I were a cowardly, snake-faced tosser?" he mused. After a moment's thought, he turned to Harry. "Can you take a peek, mate?"

Harry hesitated, knowing that every time he opened the connection with Voldemort he risked exposing his location and ultimate objective. But at this stage of the game, reaching that objective required coming face to face with evil incarnate. _Find Voldemort and we'll find the snake_, he thought. _Kill them both, and we can end this_.

His eyes met Ron's, and Ron gave a small nod of encouragement. Harry let his eyes slide shut and willed the connection to open.

Almost instantly, Harry's knees buckled under the onslaught of emotions and images – immense satisfaction at reports of massive casualties among enemy ranks, raging bloodlust for revenge on the growing number of prisoners, irritation at Lucius Malfoy's thinly-disguised interference on behalf of his spoiled brat, anger at how long it was taking his armies to find and deliver The Boy Who Dared to Live, harsh commands tinged with just a touch of desperation and … _wait, what was that? … Yes, there it is again! _… gnawing suspicion that maybe, just maybe, a few of his most trusted followers weren't all that they seemed.

Although Harry was tempted to pursue that idea further, he refocused on the task at hand. Breathing deeper and more slowly, he tried to zero in on Voldemort's location. _Somewhere in the castle? Not yet, it seems. Good. That means he hasn't made it past the front guard. But he's not out in the open, that's for sure. He's standing in silence … surrounded by dark shapes and tall forms … cloaked figures scattered about on uneven ground … a clearing … _

His green eyes flew open with sudden realization. "The Forbidden Forest."

"Are you sure?" asked Ron. "Because we can't afford to—"

Anger flared up bright and hot, prompting Harry to stand and cut him off mid-sentence. "I'm sure! How dare you question me?"

Ron took a step back, hands up and eyes widening. "Hey! No need to get peeved."

Harry stopped with a jolt, just as he was about to aim his wand. "I … I'm sorry, Ron," he said in a voice tinged with shame. "I just can't open that connection without his emotions getting in the way. It takes over if I'm not careful. And it's so hard to fight it. It's like a piece of me _wants_ to taste it."

He turned away, closed his eyes and raked his left hand through his impossibly messy hair before letting it drop again and turning back to Ron. "He's all over the place right now – emotionally, I mean. I think he's sure he's going to win, and it sounds like he might be right. But I also get the sense that he's getting worried about something. Or someone. But I just couldn't stick around long enough to sort it out."

Ron's face darkened, and he clenched his fists before saying, "Well, he should be worried. He won't get away this time, not with all work we've done. We'll finish this tonight, even if we have to die trying. He's destroyed everything we ever knew, Harry – the Burrow, Mad Eye, Hogwarts, Dumbledore, who knows how many of our friends …" He cut his eyes to Harry before continuing in a softer voice, "Sirius, your parents … we have to stop him, now."

Harry sighed, then his face hardened – whether in anger or determination, Ron couldn't say. "You're right," Harry replied. "I guess we should get moving then, yeah?"

And with that, he turned and started to walk toward Hagrid's abandoned, burned-out hut and the edge of the forest beyond. Ron watched his retreating figure for a moment before shoving his hands in his pockets and following.

They had only walked a few steps when both let out a startled gasp and reached into their pockets, where they felt a burning sensation. Harry got to his Galleon first and quickly scanned the message. "It's Hermione!" he exclaimed with obvious relief. "She's okay! And look, she's heading in the same direction we are. We can catch up with her at Hagrid's before we go into the forest."

Ron grinned from ear to ear and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "See, I told you! Our Hermione's a pretty smart bird. I knew she'd be fine. She's tough, that one! Alright, then?"

"Yeah, let's do this!" Harry replied. And with a noticeably lighter step and smiles on their faces, the friends continued down the hill to the path that led to the gamekeeper's abode.

Neither saw the cloaked figure step out of the shadows near a lorry-sized piece of the fallen tower. Keeping his eyes on the boys, he raised his left sleeve and pressed on his Dark Mark, sending intelligence back to his Master. Then, with a malicious grin that exposed his jagged teeth, he dissolved into an inky cloud of smoke and flew off into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

The pale robed figure stood absolutely still, with his eyes closed. No one around him dared speak above a whisper. Most chose to simply remain silent rather than risk unwanted attention.

The air was pregnant with anticipation. More than half of the field commanders had returned with reports that their targets were secure and all threats … neutralized. Of the remaining squadrons, only one was still battling to gain critical territory – the front gates of Hogwarts. Surely it was only a matter of time before they would claim victory, ending the resistance and starting a new regime where only the most deserving witches and wizards would rule.

Through it all, their Master had been the great leader he had always been, issuing orders and threats with equal force, rarely praising yet never hesitating to address his followers' insufficient efforts with his usual method of forceful discipline.

But now he stood still and silent. And as most Death Eaters had learned early on in their service to the Dark Lord, a still and silent Master was a dangerous master. Best to keep a low profile at those times, when even breathing too loudly could put one on the receiving end of a Crucio … or much worse.

Suddenly the figure huffed a breath, then another and another, until the sound turned into a chilling laugh. His eyes opened and he looked around at his loyal followers in triumph. One dropped to her knees and crawled forward, reaching out to touch his cloak as she whispered, "What is it, my Lord? Is it the boy? Send me, and I will—"

Suddenly she yelped and scrambled away, falling backward in her haste. A spot of red quickly bloomed and began dripping down the hand that had touched him, and she cradled it to her chest with a whimper.

"Bella, you forget your place," he hissed, staring down at her as though she were nothing more than a disobedient puppy. She ducked her head and looked away, not so much in fear as in deference to some kind of deity.

Looking up again, the dark wizard swiftly assessed the gathered Death Eaters. "I have just received promising news. The boy is on the grounds near where the astronomy tower fell, and he is heading this way. It is as I said it would be. Unlike you, who would act foolishly and risk everything to eliminate this cloud of … _gnats_ … that has been circling us for years, I have been patient. Given time and the proper _encouragement_, Harry Potter and his useless band of sycophants had no choice but to one day bow to me and recognize my superiority.

And now, that day has come! He is coming to me, just as I knew he would. He and his blood-traitor friend are moving in this direction to meet with that filthy Mudblood girl at the half-giant's hovel, and we will be waiting for them. Like their compatriots in this ill-fated war, they will not survive until dawn."

Just then, a wispy figure of a rat terrier ran into the clearing and stopped in front of the Dark Lord. It appeared to cower for a moment before it spoke in a voice loud enough for everyone assembled to hear. "My Lord, all units report that the castle and grounds have been secured. All known leaders of the resistance have been killed or accounted for except for the boy and his two friends. We await your instructions."

With that, the terrier patronus dissipated.

A sinister laugh rang out once again, and the Death Eaters began to relax at the good news and their Master's obvious glee. Nervous laughter broke out among the group, and a few of the more daring gave shouts of victory. Near a large boulder, Bellatrix stood tall and licked the blood from her hand with a sickening, hungry smile.

"Lucius, Severus … come forward."

Immediately the two top-ranked Death Eaters stepped forward and bowed low before their Master. As usual, the man before them waited until they were nearly cramped in discomfort before giving them leave to rise. Even in this, their hour of victory, it would never do to let his followers become too comfortable in his presence. The wizards finally stood, eyes on him, and waited to be addressed.

"The time has come to welcome the boy … _to his death_," the Dark Lord added with a snarl. "We certainly do not want him to feel as though we are not prepared to receive him. After all, we are gracious hosts, and we are delighted that he will be joining us this night."

Soft chuckles could be heard around the clearing. Both men smirked slightly, but continued to wait for their input to be solicited.

"Lucius, I would like to hear your ideas first. How can we greet this insolent fool that we have waited so patiently to see?"

A pair of grey eyes slid sideways and met a pair of black eyes with a look of smug satisfaction. "My Lord," he began in his drawling voice, "we would be honored to follow any plan you set forth. Your battle strategies are unparalleled, and there is nothing that can withstand your might. I do not presume to have greater skill in—"

"Yes, yes, of course," the Dark Lord hissed with irritation. "Do get on with it."

"Ahem … well, yes, of course. As I was saying, I do have a few ideas that may suit your purposes rather well. I propose we lay a trail that will lead them directly to us. I should think that we have enough markers … bread crumbs, if you will … to create beacons from here to the hill above their meeting place."

"And what do you intend to use for these … crumbs, Lucius?"

"Why, the mutilated bodies of his friends and allies, my Lord. Do you not agree that they would make a nice welcoming committee?"

A low murmur of assent rose from the crowd, and once again, Lucius' eyes locked on Severus', as though challenging him to disagree. As usual, they saw no reaction from the man other than a cold stare.

The Dark Lord's red eyes glittered with interest as he evaluated this plan. The macabre always did sound more delicious than the ordinary. "What say you, Severus?"

The raven-haired man stood silently for a moment before speaking. "My Lord, Lucius is talented at such theatrics, and I have no doubt it will create a strong impression on the boy. But I respectfully disagree with my colleague's intentions. Why, one would almost think he had been sorted into Gryffindor instead of Slytherin."

Bella let out a shout of anger. "You dare to cast aspersions on the ancient and most pure House of Malfoy, you loathsome, slimy half-blood? My Lord—"

"_However_," Severus said, raising his voice to be heard over Bella's protests and ignoring the murderous expression on Lucius' face. A quick look of warning from the Dark Lord caused the crazed woman's mouth to snap shut.

Severus continued in a lower voice. "However, your will is my duty, as ever, my Lord. That said, I do not think such an _obvious_ trail will be necessary. If I know the boy at all from my unfortunate years as his professor, he will be foolish enough and, he thinks, brave enough to come to you on his own. Indeed, as he already is."

The Master looked between his two trusted servants. Once again, a fleeting sense of doubt came over him. He locked eyes with each of the men in turn, searching their minds through Legilimency for deceit or ill will. He found nothing but loyalty, and perhaps a bit of not-so-friendly competition between the men to see who would win their Lord's favor. How utterly predictable.

He closed his eyes and sought out the boy through their shared mental connection. He could see that the supposed savior of the wizarding world and his ginger-haired idiot sidekick had not yet left the edge of the castle foundations. The main path toward the forest was nearly impassable due to debris from the attacks on the castle. The way forward would be slow but steady.

After another moment, he turned to address the group as a whole. "It is decided. Lucius, you may proceed, but you must act quickly to accomplish your task. Take as many of our company as you require. Severus, you will remain here. I believe you will enjoy your reunion with your former pupil."

"As you wish, My Lord," both men replied, almost in unison. A triumphant Lucius smirked at Severus before striding off to assemble his forces. Severus' eyes followed the man closely, but his face revealed nothing.

**A/N: **_This story will unwind slowly, but I do hope it will be worth the wait. I prefer to read stories that allow for character development and background rather than those that take a "wham, bam, thank you ma'am" approach. We'll see Hermione again in a couple of chapters, I promise, and then things will get really interesting._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:**_ They say it's always darkest before the dawn. It's definitely gotten dark in here._

"Circe's saggy tit! Not again!"

That statement was followed by muttering in which only every third word was intelligible. Something about "bloody plants" that couldn't be "arsed" to stay in "their own pots."

Harry turned around and, for the third time in the last 30 minutes, saw Ron's left leg tangled in a particularly aggressive yet (thankfully) fangless hybrid of venomous tentacula. Professor Sprout must have been cultivating the plants en masse. For what? Some kind of nightmare ornamental plant? Whatever the reason, the ground was treacherous thanks to dozens of the creeping vines set free in an apparent attack on the greenhouses.

With a quick flick of his wrist, Harry cut the vine away from Ron's leg and stunned the plants that remained in their path. The spell's effects wouldn't last long, as they had already learned the hard way, but at this point, he hoped they were close enough to get to the other side of the greenhouses before it wore off.

It seemed like it had been several hours since they set off toward Hagrid's, when in reality it couldn't have been more than one. But it had taken them that long just safely and stealthily maneuver around the wreckage of the castle and the rough terrain to reach the path that wound among the castle's greenhouses and out through the sloping lawn. It was a 5-minute walk under normal circumstances. And now that they had reached the path, their progress had been slowed by bloody plants. As least they could see a little; their dimly-lit wands showed what the moon hanging low in the pre-dawn sky couldn't, and they were able to avoid some of the more dangerous plants littering the ground. It could have been much worse; at least Professor Sprout had spelled the mandrake pots to be unbreakable.

Neither Harry nor Ron were looking forward to whatever they might find ahead. The night had been so difficult already, with so much death and destruction. Plus, it had been an age since either had seen a friendly face. Granted, they didn't know _every_ member of the Order or all of those who came to fight on the side of the Light. But still, where was everyone they knew? The Weasleys, with their bright hair and large numbers, should have been easily spotted. What about Neville? Luna? McGonagall? Remus? The others?

As they approached what was left of the greenhouses, they could see that there had obviously been fighting here. There was no evidence of casualties, so far. With any luck, the greenhouses had been deserted when the Death Eaters arrived. But then, if they were, why would the Death Eaters expend the energy to create such a mess so far from the castle proper? It had to have been a proper battle.

Well, whatever had happened, they had to keep moving. It was taking longer than expected to cover the ground between the castle and Hagrid's hut, and they were anxious to be reunited with Hermione, after which the endgame would, hopefully, reach its final round.

Suddenly, Harry flung his arm in front of Ron to stop him. "Oh, Mer—" He stopped mid-word and gagged. "There," he managed to choke out while pointing to the right.

Ron turned his head and sucked in a ragged breath. Staked to the door of what used to be Greenhouse #4 and barely visible in the darkness was a bloody arm, its fingers positioned such that they pointed down the path. The arm wore the sleeve of a student robe. Ravenclaw.

"Merlin, Harry. I think I'm going to be sick," Ron said, bending over and putting his hands on his knees. Nothing they had seen in the past several hours of fighting had been quite as gruesome as the display before them. Sure, it had been awful to see wizards and other magical beings being killed, but Avada Kedavra isn't exactly bloody, and most of the dead were either enemies or unknown members of the Order. This was obviously part of a student – a older girl, by the looks of the dainty fingers and well-shaped fingernails – which meant it probably belonged someone they knew.

Harry shivered for a moment, but then blocked the image from his head. "Ron, we need to keep moving," he urged. "The only way out of here, to Hermione and to … to _him_, is forward. We'll get past the greenhouses and then it's basically open ground until Hagrid's. We can do this."

He grabbed the back of Ron's jacket and hauled him up to a standing position, then tugged him forward, ignoring his whine of protest and green-tinged face. As they drew closer to the next building, they saw something in the middle of the roadway. It was hard to tell in the dark, but it looked like a person. Moving cautiously forward, wands out, they could see that it was indeed a person, or at least what used to be a person.

The body was laid with its arms outstretched, each hand holding something. As the light from their wands illuminated the body, they could see that it was Professor Sprout. Her left hand held her decapitated head, while her right hand held her heart. There was a pool of congealing blood within her empty chest cavity and on the ground around her. She had obviously been dead for some time. Harry let out a stifled whimper, and Ron stepped back in speechless, wide-eyed horror.

A quick glance between the boys confirmed that they were each thinking the same thing. Someone was sending a message, and it was time to clear out, fast! They extinguished their wands and began to run down the path, navigating as best they could in the shadows between broken buildings.

They didn't see any more bodies until they were more than halfway through the line of damaged buildings. Suddenly, with each step, new horrors awaited. Every few feet, there was a body or body part arranged in a gruesome tableau – arms pointing from impossible angles, gory intestines arranged in the shape of arrows, heads on stakes with their wide eyes turned toward the path, disembodied feet of all sizes placed in a mocking arrangement of footsteps. Among the unidentifiable bodies, some familiar faces appeared – Justin Finch-Fletchley, Susan Bones, _oh God, Tonks!_

Ron jerked to a stop. "We can't go on, Harry! We have to turn back! This is obviously a trap. They're leading us somewhere. We'll find another way!" His voice raised in volume and pitch with each word, until he was practically hysterical, begging Harry to turn around.

He didn't have to ask Harry twice. They turned back, but not 10 feet into their retreat, Ron stepped in an odd-shaped depression in the ground, and a sudden explosion sent a fireball down the path toward them, forcing them to turn around once again. In their panic, they didn't realize that they had entered a magical minefield of sorts. As they ran forward, they accidentally triggered explosions placed in such a way as to keep the boys running through an endless parade of bloody flesh.

After what seemed an eternity, they cleared the greenhouse complex and the horrific displays. Harry saw a small outcropping of rocks and quickly pulled Ron over behind the nearest boulder. In a flash, he whipped out the invisibility cloak from his jacket's inner pocket and covered them as they crouched low to the ground. They struggled to stay silent as they listened for noises around them.

The minutes ticked by without a sound, save the buzz of insects and the shuffle of nocturnal creatures. With no sign of pursuit, Harry quietly cast a Muffliato spell, then followed it with Homenum Revelio. There was no one else alive within the spell's considerably large range, prompting both to let out a breath they didn't realize they were holding.

"If there's no one here, then what the bloody hell was that all about?" said Ron in a shaky voice.

Harry was silent for a moment. "Maybe it was meant for someone else? Or maybe they're just that sick," he finally said. "The things they did to those people, our friends … oh, God!"

He buried his face in his hands, and his shoulders shook as he was overcome with emotion. Ron put an awkward arm around his friend and became lost in his own thoughts.

After several minutes, Harry exhausted his tears, and his anguish quickly turned to anger. He sat up, yanked the cloak off and stowed it in its pocket. He stood quickly and turned to Ron with a fierce look on his face.

"That's it. No more wasting time. It's time to end this," he ground out through clenched teeth. "It's time to make them pay."

He reached out his hand to Ron, who nodded his head once before grasping it. Harry hauled him to his feet and they started to jog across the open lawn, which covered rolling hills down to the forest line, broken only by occasional rocky outcroppings. They still had to work their way around to the other side of the castle before reaching their destination

They traveled for several minutes without speaking before Ron suddenly stopped and said, "Do you hear that?"

"What? I don't hear anything."

"Exactly. I just realized that we haven't heard any signs of battle since we left the courtyard."

Harry cocked his head to the side and listened intently. "Huh, you're right. We should be able to hear something, even out here. Do you suppose we missed something?"

"I don't know. I reckon maybe they're taking a break to rest or regroup or something."

"You mean like a truce or something?"

"Maybe … I'm not sure I like it, though. What if it's already over? And if it is, who won?"

Both boys were silent at that thought. Harry thought about reopening his link to Voldemort to see what was happening, but then he weighed the risks and dismissed the idea.

"I think we just need to meet up with Hermione and make a plan from there," Harry finally said. "We should be able to see the castle better from there, and anyway it will be brighter by then."

Indeed, dawn was approaching. There was the faintest glow at the lowest point of the horizon. The night was finally coming to a close.

They started to run, following the undulating path as it curved right toward the lower grounds. As they crested the rise, they could just make out the remains of Hagrid's home. Spaced randomly between them and their destination were several small groups of people, who appeared to be talking quietly in the glow of small magical fires.

"It's McGonagall!" Ron said. "I recognize her hat! And look, that's Kingsley!" He grinned ear to ear at the prospect of being reunited with other members of the order. They took off at a sprint and quickly reached the first group.

"Professor! Kingsley! It's us! What's happening?" Harry called as he approached.

When there was no response, he slowed to a walk before stopping directly behind McGonagall. He tapped her on the shoulder, saying, "Professor, it's me, Harry."

No sooner did he touch her than her body pitched forward and fell to the ground, knocking Kingsley down at the same time. Both fell at odd angles, and their heads rolled off their shoulders and across the ground, coming to a rest some distance away. In the glow of the fire, he could see their faces, frozen in a rictus of pain and death.

After a brief moment of shock, he turned back to tell Ron, but Ron was already running to the next group – Remus, Mundungus and Neville. "Wait! Don't—" he yelled, but it was too late. At the Ron's slightest touch, all three men fell to the ground. They kept their heads, but their entrails landed beside them with a wet slap.

Harry ran to Ron and they looked ahead to the next group. Luna and … _is that the Patil twins? But where are their arms and feet?_

"Oh my God!" Ron gasped. They panicked then, running from group to group, moving ever closer to the hut. Each group had obviously been place with magic to appear alive, only they were dead – some with grotesque injuries and others looking completely untouched, but every single face was recognizable as a friend or ally.

Both boys became more and more unhinged the more they saw, until they came to the last, largest group – all with flaming ginger hair. Ginny, the twins, Bill, Molly, Arthur, even Percy … all dead with the words "blood traitor" carved into their foreheads. The nearly inhuman sound that rose from Ron's throat spoke of his utter anguish at the sight of his family. His hands moved restlessly from body to body, as though touching their hair, their clothes, their faces could somehow bring them back.

Harry hadn't made a sound because he simply couldn't. His throat was so tight he almost couldn't breathe. The shock was visceral. Every fiber of his being was in agony knowing that the only people he had ever known as family had now been taken away from him just like his parents.

Moving as if in a dream, he walked to where Ginny lay. The sight of her lovely, innocent face, framed by silky red locks, was the last straw, and he dropped to his knees, sweeping her up in his arms and screaming out a single word.

"NOOOOOoooooooo!" His cry turned to sobs as he cradled her, touching her lips, her eyes and her neck before pressing his lips to her hair.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **_It gets worse before it gets better ..._

"How … touching," spoke an all-too-familiar voice laced with mock sympathy. "You will, of course, want to take a few moments to grieve for your loved ones before we allow you to join them in death."

At the sound of that voice, Harry drew his wand and made to lunge toward his nemesis. But before he could fully stand, his wand flew out of his hand and invisible bonds stopped his progress. Looking around, he realized that Ron was also disarmed and bound, and they were quickly being surrounded by a massive crowd of Death Eaters. Cloaked figures poured out of the forest like a river overflowing its banks.

Voldemort stepped forward, massive snake at his side, and grinned at his quarry, now defenseless and completely at his mercy. "Now, now, we can not have you causing any more trouble, can we? I do hope you are comfortable. We have many things to discuss."

Quiet laughter could be heard from the group, all of whom looked at the boys with utter hatred and no small amount of eagerness to see them killed at last. By the looks on Harry and Ron's face, the feeling was completely mutual.

Tearing his eyes from the faces around him and looking back into Voldemort's snake-like face, Harry spit out, "You bastard! I've nothing to discuss with you. Your pursuit of power and immortality have destroyed our world. How can you not see that? You'll have nothing and no one to rule! Everyone whose families you've destroyed will rise up against you and destroy you, if not now then soon. You will not win!"

For the third time that night, Voldemort let loose a chilling laugh that rose in volume until he screamed, "You are nothing but a fool, Harry Potter! Do you not understand that there _is_ no one left besides my loyal followers? Look around you! I have destroyed my opposition, down to the last tiny infant clutched in his mother's trembling arms. I will not make the same mistake I made last time. This time, there will be no resistance!"

Harry's face paled and his eyes widened at that information. "Ev-everyone? There's no one left?" _But that means … Dumbledore's Army, the students and teachers at Hogwarts, the Order … _"Hermione …" he whispered. Next to him, Ron's breathing was labored and his face was streaked with tears.

Looking around at the cloaked figures in the early morning light, his eyes sought out the one in whom there might be one last shred of hope. Could he dare hope that the spy turned traitor might have one small bit of integrity? Emerald eyes met obsidian eyes for a brief moment, and the image of a phoenix flashed in his mind. Harry blinked in surprise, but when he looked again at his hated professor and one-time ally, the man's face was as blank as ever.

"That is correct, Potter. For years, I have been nothing if not methodical in my quest to exterminate the vermin that dared infest our world. Today, I stand before you victorious in that quest! Everyone you ever knew on the side of the so-called Light, and oh so many you did not, has paid the ultimate price for their foolish belief in a prophecy that never came to pass. They paid the price for their belief in _you_, boy. I am afraid their blood is upon your head."

"That's not true! Harry didn't kill anyone. It was you and your effin'—" Ron's shouts were cut off with a gurgle when he was hit with a tongue-severing spell and started choking on the blood that filled and spilled out of his mouth.

"And you, Weasley. Blood traitor!" Voldemort hissed. "Your kind are an abomination to the name of wizardkind. You may be pure of blood, but you are worth less than the dirt on which I will build my kingdom. You have brought this fate, and that of your family, upon your own shoulders by forgetting your place in this world and consorting with filthy trash."

He leaned closer to Ron and trailed his wand along his cheek in an almost gentle gesture. "You could have been great, you know. That was what you always wanted, was it not? Pity, then, that you chose the wrong path, all for the sake of a weak half-blood fool and a Mudblood whore."

At the sound of Harry's immediate and vehement defense of Ron and Hermione, Voldemort straightened up, turned and reached a bony hand forward to grasp the bespectacled boy's chin. With seemingly inhuman strength, he pulled Harry to his feet. Then he conjured a wooden cross and heavy iron spikes. With a final spell, he sent the spikes tearing through Harry's hands and feet, pinning him to the wood while his tortured screams echoed through the still air.

"It is fitting that the so-called 'savior of the wizarding world' meet his end the way another Muggle-loving Savior once did, is it not? Let us see if our savior will rise from the dead this time!"

As the jeers and cheers rang in his ears, Harry once again looked at his former Potions Master, who shot him an intense look and gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head. With a flash of insight, Harry understood that the time had come to play his final hand. He struggled for a moment to center himself, then he slowly blocked out the sound of Ron's suffering, his own agony and his distraught emotions. Looking into Voldemort's eyes, he opened the connection and pushed forth the images of destroying each horcrux over the last three years. One by one, pieces of Voldemort's soul had been destroyed, and it was with grim satisfaction that he made that fact known now.

Howling with rage at that information, Voldemort swung his wand around and flung every Dark curse he knew at Ron, whose body split open and overflowed with maggots, then blistered and burned. It didn't take long for his choked cries to stop and his body to crumble to dust, with nothing left intact save for his very recognizable red hair and one badly battered trainer.

Enraged by his friend's death and finally certain of his own, Harry's intrinsic magical power surged in one last desperate attempt to complete his task. Recognizing it for what it was, he focused everything he had on channeling that energy to avenge Ron, Ginny, his friends and everyone who had ever known the shadow of Voldemort's evil. Sparks flew from his outstretched fingertips, and with one final surge of strength, he sent a jet of crimson light from somewhere in his chest directly toward the snake. Nagini reared back but could not escape the onslaught of power. With a great judder, the snake's head burst open and its body sank to the ground with a dull thud.

Voldemort whipped around and took in the site of his familiar, and final horcrux, laying dead on the grass. His mouth dropped open in shock, then clamped shut as his surprise turned to rage with the realization of his own mortality. Looking toward Harry, he saw a final look of triumph flashing from the boy's green eyes.

His anger exploded outward in a hoarse shout and a massive energy surge that dropped no fewer than 20 Death Eaters to the ground. He then ground out the last words Harry would ever hear. "It. Is. _Finished._"

With a flick of his wand, a green light flew straight toward Harry's face. Harry, completed depleted of magical energy and knowing he had done all he could to defeat Voldemort, closed his eyes in peace and all but embraced the light. The Boy Who Lived … lived no more.

At that very moment, a glorious sunrise burst over the horizon, throwing shades of amber, russet and gold across the land and illuminating the castle in a way that would bring artists to their knees in worship of its beauty. That beauty, however, was not enough to bring hope to the dark scene displayed on the field. There would be no new day for the Light. It was, indeed, finished.

The Death Eaters watched in silence as their Dark Lord nearly collapsed on the ground. He brought a skeletal hand to his forehead and closed his eyes as though fending off faintness. But after a moment, the feeling must have passed, because he stood tall once more and waited to see what would happen. The minutes ticked by, and soon it became clear that the boy was truly dead this time. The smile that graced their Master's face was chilling in its malevolent triumph. With one last flash of his wand, he slit Harry's throat and stomach, and he watched with satisfaction as blood seeped out of the wounds and dripped to the ground.

Cheers rang out from the assembly, but they were quickly silenced when the Master raised his hand. "We will celebrate tonight. First, we must make preparations for our new dynasty to begin. There is much to be done. Severus, lower the castle's anti-apparition wards so that we may proceed with haste."

"Yes, my Lord," answered a smooth baritone voice. The man in question, still the rightful headmaster of the school and therefore in authority over the building's magic, raised his hands to the sky, murmured a low incantation and watched intently as the last magical field around the castle rippled and dissolved.

As the Dark Lord made to sweep away from the area, he was stopped by a gentle clearing of a throat and a tentative "My Lord …"

"Yes, Severus, my most faithful and trusted servant"

"What shall we do with this … mess?"

"Leave it for the creatures of the forest. I am sure they must be hungry, and I have no wish to deprive them of such delicious sustenance. I am, after all, a benevolent Lord."

"I see. And the girl? She was to meet them here. If it pleases you, I will see to it that she does not survive."

"Ah yes, the little Mudblood. She is of no consequence to me. If the girl is not already dead, she will be soon. Let her see what we have done here. If she has any intelligence at all, she will kill herself or flee rather than face us. And if she does not, then we will teach the filthy chit her place – begging for mercy beneath our feet."

"As you wish, my Lord."

With that, the Dark Lord turned and vanished with a crack so loud the birds rose in a cloud from the nearby forest, startled by the sound. Under the pretense of directing the remaining troops, the raven-haired wizard watched as, one by one, the Death Eaters transformed into black smoke and flew toward the castle. When only a few remained, he moved into the shadows and cast a disillusionment charm on himself before silently walking behind where Potter's body was on display, lifeless and pale in the morning light.

Two low-ranking Death Eaters hung back, and when the last of their brethren streaked away, one turned and walked toward the hut. After a moment's hesitation, the other followed suit. Their coarse conversation drifted toward the disillusioned wizard in snatches.

"—like t'see what she's got under her robes, if you know what I mean!"

"—sully yourself with such filth? You know what 'e thinks about—"

"—always say, the dirtier the better, aye? What 'arm's gonna come from a little slap-n-tickle with the bitch? She's—"

"—no accountin' for taste, I reckon. Suit yourself, but I'm not—"

"—as good as dead anyway, ain't she? She might as well scream for us before, durin' an' after, I say. An' maybe we can get our just reward by deliverin' 'er to the Dark—"

"—ain't goin' anywhere _near_ the Dark Lord! Are you mad? Ain't worth the—"

"—Shut your gob! I hear someone comin'! Now get down."

The men crouched low beside the steps to Hagrid's hut, just hidden from the path that led down to and along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Unknown to them, another pair of eyes joined them in watching the path in anticipation of the girl's arrival.


	6. Chapter 6

It had taken Hermione 15 minutes to reach the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where she picked up the path that would eventually lead her around the lake and back toward Hagrid's hut. She had forgotten just how vast Hogwarts' grounds were. It certainly would have saved time to walk up near the castle, but she was afraid of who … or what … might be waiting for her there.

No, it was safer to take the long route. And from the message the boys had sent over the galleon, it was going to take them quite a while to reach their destination anyway. After all, the courtyard where they had been fighting was located on the farthest edge of the castle, on the opposite side from where Hagrid's place was situated. It would take time for them to cover such a distance.

The further away from the battle she walked, the calmer she felt. She had a plan, and Harry and Ron were okay, for now. She could afford to breathe a little more easily. But with that calm came extreme fatigue and pain. _I guess adrenaline is good for something – it's just too bad it wears off_, she thought with a grimace as her hexed left shoulder throbbed with increasing intensity and exhaustion swirled around her like a muddy river.

She stopped to stretch and yawn, and fished around in her ever-present beaded bag for a square of medicinal chocolate and the nearly empty vial of dittany. It felt indulgent to use these precious resources, but she reasoned that it made sense to care for herself now so that she would be ready for whatever lay ahead, and besides, it would only take a little bit of each to make a big difference in how she felt.

She popped the chocolate in her mouth and closed her eyes for moment, enjoying the warmth, strength and sense of wellbeing that washed over her. Then, opening her eyes again, she reached over to assess the injury on her shoulder.

_crack—_

Hermione froze, right hand in mid-air, and listened.

_crack—_

There it was again, the sound of something moving in the forest, just beyond her field of vision.

_crack—_

Hermione swiftly dropped the unopened dittany back into her bag and drew her wand. Something was moving closer, and she wasn't about to stick around to find out what it was. She moved to cast a disillusionment charm on herself when, suddenly, her wand flew out of her hand.

"Would you look at what we 'ave 'ere! A young lass, all by her lonesome."

The shadows at the edge of the forest slowly resolved into the form of three wizards, none of whom smelled like they'd had a bath in weeks. The taller of the three stepped forward and lit his wand, shining it in her face

"Why, 'ello again, beautiful. Let's see … what was your name? Ah, Clearwater, wasn't it? Penelope Clearwater. You just can't get enough of me, can you, love?" He bared his teeth in what almost passed for a seductive smile, and his companions laughed.

Hermione's eyes widened as she recognized the Snatcher who had found the trio and dragged them to Malfoy Manor over a year ago. She chanced a glance around the area, but didn't see anyone else.

"You was the girl with Scarhead and his sidekick, wasn't you? I'm surprised Malfoy let you get away, fine young thing like you. But I guess you wasn't important enough for the Dark Lord. Oh well, 'is loss, my gain."

He made to step toward her, but she took a step back. She would have run, but with no wand … well, she'd stay and take her chances on outsmarting them to get her wand back. And besides, they didn't seem to realize who she really was.

The Snatcher saw her balk at his approach and sneered. "Look boys, she's shy! Poor thing."

With a lecherous laugh, he reached out more quickly than she would have thought possible and grabbed her arms, pulling her close and burying his nose in her hair.

"Don't worry, beautiful. Ol' Scabior's gonna take good care of you. Real good care." His tongue snaked out of his mouth and traced her ear.

Nearly sickened by his actions, his foul breath and the pain that lanced through her shoulder, Hermione turned her head away, and quick as a flash, she raised her right knee with all her might, landing it square in his groin. With a howl, he dropped her arms and fell to the ground. His goons, somewhat slow on the uptake, just stared at him and wondered what had happened.

Hermione seized her chance and ran to the edge of the forest. Looking frantically around, she spotted a fallen tree limb and seized it before turning back to the three wizards. Taking a mighty swing, she hit the one closest to her just as he turned to see where she went. The branch connected with his skull with a sickening thud, and he joined his comrade on the ground.

Before she could rear back for another swing, the last Snatcher pulled his wand and threw a curse at the limb, splintering it and causing her to drop her hold on it. Knowing he had the upper hand, she turned back toward the forest, intending to escape into the shadows. But before she could move more than a few feet, the stocky wizard shot another spell toward her and magical bonds flew out of his wand and wrapped around her arms and legs. Her momentum carried her forward and she fell flat onto her face with a screech, unable to break her fall. Something sharp – a rock, perhaps – scraped her forehead, and she could feel blood start to trickle from the wound.

"Listen 'ere, missy. You're gonna regret that, mark my words!" growled the Snatcher as he knelt beside her and grabbed her hair, causing her to whimper. But before he could make his next move, he hissed in pain and let go of her hair to clutch his left arm. The one called Scabior also groaned and hauled himself to his feet, holding his groin with his left hand and rubbing his left arm with his right hand.

"Looks like … 'e's calling … us back … lads … and we'd … better … hurry," Scabior said in a hoarse voice between gasps. He clearly hadn't recovered from his run-in with one very bony knee.

"But what about the girl?" said the shorter wizard.

"Leave her. She ain't going nowhere like that." He sucked in a deep breath in an effort to control his pain and turned his head toward Hermione before continuing. "We can come back for 'er later. And believe me … we_ will_ come back. We've got unfinished business 'ere, 'aven't we, love?"

The two wizards turned to their colleague, who lay unconscious on the ground. They each grabbed an arm before all three disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.

Hermione lay flat on the ground, unable to move more than her head, feet and fingers. _Well, this is just great, Hermione. What will your next brilliant move be?_

She decided her first order of business would be to get her face out of the damp leaves and who knew what else on the forest floor. With what little movement she had, she began to rock her body back and forth in an attempt to roll onto her back.

It took a few minutes, as well as several unlady-like grunts and groans, but she finally managed to gain enough momentum to roll onto her back. She closed her eyes and lay still for a few minutes to catch her breath, but when she opened her eyes again, she gasped.

There, filling her entire field of vision, was a magnificent centaur. He stood stock-still and stared down at her as though assessing whether she was friend or foe. After a moment, he cocked his head, flicked his tail and spoke as calmly as one would discuss the weather.

"You are in danger."

Hermione nearly rolled her eyes, but caught herself just in time. She stayed silent, but her thoughts rattled in her head. _You think so? Huh. I hadn't noticed. Why, I was just enjoying an evening in the forest. Tied in ropes. On the ground. With blood in my eyes. How kind of you to notice._

The centaur continued to stare at her, and after another moment, he spoke again.

"The war between wizards will not end at dawn. However, there is one who will conquer Evil with the help of another. Dark and Light will heal our world. The enemy and the hero will join their power. The stars have foretold it."

At this, Hermione strained her head forward. "Yes! Harry will conquer Evil! You speak of the prophecy, of course. We know this already. So, you're saying we'll be victorious? If not tonight, when?"

The centaur cocked his head again, then looked up to the heavens for what seemed an eternity. Just as the silence became too much for Hermione, he turned back toward her.

"We know the prophecy of which you speak. We follow the destinies of wizards, for often those destinies are intertwined with our own. But there is more to Seeing than mere prophecy. One must listen to the stars sing, hear the forest speak and understand the river as it flows."

He paused to scrutinize her again before continuing. "You are different. Unlike many of your kind, you understand your place within the larger world of magical creatures. None are higher or lower than others, yet all have their place, as you have learned. Yours is an intellect unlike most. You will See. He will See."

"See what? What do you mean? Who? Explain!" Hermione's eyes narrowed as she tried to make sense of this new information.

"You will See," repeated the centaur. He withdrew a spear and lowered it to Hermione's neck. Her eyes widened in fear, but before she could respond, he drew the spear down the length of her body and severed the magical bonds, which fell away and disappeared.

Hermione sat up, rubbing her wrists and staring up at the centaur. She opened her mouth to ask again what he meant. "What—?"

"Daughter of man, blessed with great power, do not be afraid. There is much pain ahead, but there is one who can help. Open your mind, and your path will become clear. Continue your journey in peace. Farewell."

He turned and, in a flurry of hooves and tail, disappeared into the forest.

Hermione stared after him, stunned by what had just happened. _No matter how long I spend in the magical world, I'm never quite prepared for what happens. Bloody centaurs and their bloody riddles._

With that, she shook her head and hauled herself to her feet. Aside from the cut on her forehead, the incident with the Snatchers had left her unharmed. _And wandless_, she reminded herself. She had learned a few basic wandless spells, but unless someone wanted her to conjure up some bluebell flames or bring water to a boil, that wasn't going to help much.

On the off chance that maybe someone had lost a wand in the struggle, she searched the area, even dropping to her hands and knees to run a hand through the long grass. Aside from a sturdy twig that made her heart leap with hope only to fall in despair, there was nothing.

Resigned to being defenseless for the time being – and thankful that she still had her beaded bag – Hermione once again set off to meet the boys.

The rest of the walk around the edge of the castle grounds was uneventful, but her heart was heavy with the words of the centaur. _The war won't end at dawn. But can we survive another day like this?_

At some point, she realized that the air was still – there were no sounds of battle to be heard in any direction. _Perhaps Voldemort recalled all of his forces, not just the Snatchers_, she thought. _Maybe the Order is regrouping._

That thought made her double her pace, even breaking into a jog on the flat stretch around the lake. The giant squid blinked an enormous eye as it watched her progress, then slid below the surface of the water with a ripple, waving a giant tentacle as it went.

The sun gradually climbed above the horizon, making it easier to see the path in front of her. As it cleared the trees, the sun illuminated Hogwarts in a glorious display of golden light. It would have been utterly breathtaking, but Hermione's stomach clenched at the sight of the once beautiful castle now nearly in ruins thanks to the extreme damage it had sustained during the battle. Entire sections of the ancient castle had collapsed, and smoke drifted lazily from the remains of several fires. Her heart ached as she thought about the terrible losses both sides had sustained. So many people, so many families, destroyed for the sake of their beliefs.

As she neared the final rise before her destination, the air around her seemed to ripple and crackle. _Hogwarts' wards! But according to _Hogwarts, A History,_ those can only be adjusted by the Headmaster or his Deputy. Was it Snape or McGonagall, then?_

Interrupting that thought was a sudden crack, not unlike a Muggle sonic boom, that rang out over the grounds, causing Hermione to flinch. In the distance she saw a cloud of birds rise into the air.

_Something's happened! _she thought. Running forward, she crested the hill and meant to cover the remaining distance at a sprint. But the sight before her made her stop short. There, across the lawn between her and what was left of Hagrid's hut, as well as beyond – as far as she could see in the other direction – were bodies. So many bodies! The ground was pockmarked by craters left by errant spells, and the grass was dark and wet with … _is that blood?_

Quickly scanning the area, she couldn't see any movement. There was no sound except the wind gently rustling the trees in the distance. Cautiously stepping forward, she approached the first grouping. _Oh God! They're all dead!_

Bile rose in her throat as she took in the sight. Every single body was horribly mutilated, save for their faces. _So many faces – the Creevey brothers! Professor Vector! And there's Dean, sweet sweet Dean!_

She moved ahead to the next pile, and the next, each more horrific than the last. Panic began to rise. _What if Harry and Ron—_

That thought had her running, a low moan rising in her throat. _No! No no no! Not Harry and Ron! Please, not Harry and Ron! Oh God, no! _

She skidded to a halt, grabbed her galleon and sent a message to warn them, then she waited, willing the galleon to burn with a response. Nothing. Nothing! _C'mon, answer me!_

She ran forward again, nearly blinded by tears, only to trip over an outstretched arm that lay across her path. She landed with a sickening squelch in a pool of partially congealed blood. Scrambling back, she saw that the arm belonged to Lavender Brown's body, which had clearly been ravaged by something unholy – werewolf, most likely.

A strangled scream escaped her, and she struggled back to her feet. Turning back toward Hagrid's, she scanned for a head of messy black hair or bright ginger hair – anything that looked like her two best friends.

Suddenly, her eyes landed on what looked like a figure propped upright against a pole of some kind. And at its feet, another pile of bodies, all sporting hair the color of autumn.

Hermione staggered forward, almost afraid of what she might find. "No," she whispered. But that whisper turned to an anguished scream as she drew close enough to see that it was indeed her beloved friends.

Harry was pinned to a horrible wooden cross, eyes wide and lifeless, blood covering nearly every part of his body. Near his feet was a pile of ashes and bone fragments, along with, _oh God, Ron's shoe! _And to the right, a pile of homespun woolen sweaters and the beautiful faces of her adopted family.

The magnitude of this discovery was beyond anything she could comprehend, and she sank to her knees, keening loudly and unaware that she knelt in the blood of her dear friend Harry, her hands clutching his legs and her forehead pressed into his knees.

Without warning, the spikes holding his body to the wooden structure flew out and dropped to the ground, leaving his body to slump forward over Hermione, knocking her to the ground. She spluttered and struggled to move his dead weight off of her, finally settling on holding him to her as she sat, screaming unintelligibly through her tears.

Her screams turned to sobs, and only when the worst had passed did she become aware of a presence behind her. Snapping her mouth shut in surprise, she whirled around and came face to face with two figures in masks and robes. One was short and squat, with a rather large belly making his robes part like two forks of a river. He had his wand aimed at her. The other was tall and broad, with thick, meaty arms crossed in front of his barrel chest, wand clutched in one gloved hand and iron stakes held loosely in the other.

"I thought you'd appreciate the fact that I arranged a reunion with your friend," said the taller of the two. "But you sure are making a lot of noise – enough to raise the dead, I'd say … except that obviously it's not."

At that, both Death Eaters sniggered. Then the tall one continued, "I'd rather you save your screams for later, if you know what I mean. "

Hermione closed her eyes, tears leaking from the corners and streaming down her dirt and blood covered face. She'd barely escaped a few dim-witted Snatchers, and only then with the help of a centaur. But now, she was staring down the wands of two fully trained Death Eaters, with the knowledge that Harry, Ron and virtually everyone else she had ever known were now dead. And Voldemort must still be alive.

_We've lost! The prophecy … it was wrong! The centaur said the war wouldn't end, but it has, and Voldemort is the victor. We failed. I failed! _

"Kill me now."

"I'm sorry, love. I didn't quite catch that."

"I said, kill me now. You … you've already taken everything from me. You got what you wanted."

"Well, now. That's where you're wrong, see. We 'aven't taken everything from you. There's one thing left, and I aim to get it." With a disgusting leer, the taller wizard dropped the spikes, reached forward and grabbed Hermione by the chin, roughly pulling her to her feet.

Just as his other hand dove for the waistband of her jeans, a figure black as night shimmered into view as a disillusionment charm faded. "That will do, Jugson."

At the sound of the distinctive voice of his superior, Jugson released Hermione, who slumped back to the ground, and took two steps back. Both he and his companion sheathed their wands and lowered their eyes from Severus Snape's gaze.

"Explain."

Immediately, the dumpy wizard started babbling. "Well, sir, you see, sir, Jugson wanted to get a piece for 'imself, see, and I tried to stop 'im, I did. But 'e wouldn't listen, sir, wouldn't listen to reason. I says we shouldn't be lingering 'ere, that we should get back to the castle, but 'e wouldn't listen, sir. That's the truth, honest to Merlin."

Staring daggers at his cohort, Jugson stepped forward to defend himself, but before he got two words out of his mouth, Snape interrupted him with a glare. "Silence. It is a pity you would not listen, Jugson. Selwynn understands his place. It would do you well to understand yours."

Then Snape turned toward Hermione, who stared up at him in utter shock, and continued, "You see, it is the prerogative of those in command to determine the fates of our ... less fortunate enemies. Having had to put up with this particular know-it-all's antics for more years than I care to recall, I think I will enjoy putting her in her place and silencing her once and for all."

He reached a long arm down and grabbed a hank of Hermione's hair, giving it a sharp pull as he dragged her to her knees. She yelped in pain and instinctively reached her hands up to pull on his arm, trying to relieve some of the pressure on her scalp.

Unbuttoning his fly with his free hand, he opened his trousers before her, leaving no doubt as to his intentions. Jugson and Selwynn watched with no small amount of jealousy as their superior made to take what they themselves had wanted. They just wished they had a better view, but they didn't dare move.

Snape grabbed her right hand and pulled it toward his open trousers. Her eyes filled anew with tears and her face burned with humiliation at the thought of what was about to happen, but she couldn't pull away. He was simply too strong.

But as he drew her hand near his body, rather than shoving it in his pants, he diverted it to his open fly, forcing her fingers to close around the third button. Just then, he wrenched her head back, looked into her teary eyes and murmured, "Stupefy."

The last things Hermione knew before darkness closed in were a vision of a phoenix, a pair of onyx eyes and a tugging sensation, like a hook behind her navel, as she was dragged through space and time.


	7. Chapter 7

Portkey was never the most comfortable way to travel. One false move during transport and you wind up flat on your arse.

Which is where, unfortunately, Severus found himself when the spinning stopped. Granger was also flat on his arse – or rather his unbuttoned and undignified pelvis. He tried to extract his right hand from her impossibly bushy hair, found it hopelessly tangled and switched tactics, using his other hand to roll her by the shoulder until she tumbled off of him and landed on her back in the leaves beneath a forest of towering trees.

A few awkward wand movements later and he was once again in possession of his right hand and his dignity. He stood up and looked down at the unconscious witch sprawled at his feet.

"Well, Granger, we meet again," he murmured. "I do believe we have some catching up to do. I can only hope that, when you wake, you are as pleased to see me as I am to see you."

With a sigh, he bent over and hauled her up to rest in the cradle of his arms. Stepping up to the nearest oak tree, he lifted a knee to help balance her weight while he used his wand to tap an intricate pattern on three knots on the trunk. He straightened just as the air around them crackled and the concealment wards dropped, revealing a clearing where previously there had been a dense stand of trees.

Adjusting his grasp on the girl, Severus strode into the clearing. Just as he reached a boulder in the center, another set of wards dropped and a small cottage shimmered into view. Stepping up to the door, he hoisted her over his shoulder just enough to free his hands so he could use his wand to make a small slice in his left palm. Pressing the fresh wound against the door, Severus heard the locks unclick. He quickly healed his hand and grabbed the handle to open the door.

As the door opened, a rush of air escaped, signaling the breech of the final wards, which were designed to protect the contents of the cottage from decay. With a small grunt, he once again adjusted his cargo in his arms and stepped over the threshold. Glancing around the small living space, he was assured that all was as it should be, so he walked to the sofa and laid Granger down.

Casting a quick tempus charm, he saw he only had three minutes left before his modified (and highly illegal) button portkey would return him to the exact place and time from which he had disappeared. Walking quickly to a small cupboard, he flung it opened and dug through its contents before surfacing with two small vials, examining the contents of each with a practiced eye before pocketing one.

He hurried back to the sofa, bit off the cork of the other vial and leaned over Granger, grasping her jaw and squeezing gently so her lips parted. He poured the potion down her throat, causing her to splutter slightly. But he firmly closed her lips and rubbed her neck until she reflexively swallowed. Within seconds, her breathing slowed and evened out and her body relaxed even more than it already was.

Satisfied that she would remain unconscious until he returned to administer the antidote to the stasis potion, he turned his attention to her hair. _Merlin, she is absolutely covered in blood. _

A cursory visual scan showed that she was relatively uninjured, as least as far as Severus could tell, but there wasn't time for a more thorough diagnostic. He could see a cut on her forehead and a rather ugly hex injury on her shoulder but those injuries certainly couldn't account for the vast amount of blood staining her hair, clothes and face. The rest must have been acquired during battle. The obvious source was Potter, as he had seen what had happened in those moments before he intervened on her behalf. _Who else have you seen killed – or killed with your own wand? _he wondered.

Refocusing on the task at hand, his long fingers sifted through her hair, removing the elastic that had nearly come free of its own accord. Digging deep, he found a portion of hair that was somewhat clean – at least, it was free of who knows whose blood and therefore could be used for his intended purpose. Using his wand, he cut several strands and levitated them into a hidden pocket within his robes.

Another tempus charm showed he had 28 seconds left, so he flipped a blanket over her sleeping form, cleaned his hands, walked out the door and reset the wards. With a final glance around the clearing, he casually reached a hand back toward his groin, almost as if brushing a bit of lint from his trousers, and spun out of sight.

/

Jugson and Selwynn looked on as Snape jerked the girl's head backward. Her hands reached up to fight his arms but it was no use.

_Good, _thought Jugson with a leer. _I like 'em with a little fight. _His face fell a little at his next thought, though. _I hope Snape lets us 'ave a go before he kills her. It's no fun when they're dead._

Selwynn's thoughts were slightly less eager. _I should never 'ave stayed behind. Snape'll 'ave our 'ide for sure after this. I 'ope 'e don't tell the Dark Lord. I've 'ad enough Crucio for one night. _But then he consoled himself. _At least I'll get a show before I die._

Both men craned their necks to see what would happen next. Only what happened next didn't make a bit of sense. One minute Snape had the girl, and the next he was holding empty air and seething with rage.

"What in Merlin's na— Gods be damned! The girl must have had an emergency portkey!"

Turning, he glared at the two Death Eaters. "Well, what are you waiting around for? Start looking! She can't have gone far."

Jugson looked at Selwynn and saw his own confusion reflected back. Looking back at Snape, he said, "Maybe she apparated. You lowered the wards, you know."

"Oh, really? I hadn't noticed." Rolling his eyes in disbelief at the man's stupidity, he continued, "You unbelievable idiot. You cannot apparate without a wand. And she did. not. have. a. wand." He reached up to rub his hand over his face, as if the very presence of these two imbeciles was wearing on his nerves.

He continued, "As it happens, you cannot portkey within Hogwart's grounds without the headmaster's express permission. I am the headmaster, or did you forget? I can assure you I did _not_ grant permission. Therefore, her attempt has failed and she is likely lying splinched somewhere within a few hundred meters of this precise location. All the better for us, because that means we can rid ourselves of her sooner. But we must know for certain that she is dead… unless _you_ wish to tell the Dark Lord what happened here?"

Two faces drained of blood simultaneously before the Death Eaters turned and scattered, looking amongst the bodies for a bushy-haired Mudblood. Severus watched them for a moment before turning toward the edge of the forest, under the pretense of searching there.

Once he was sure he was alone and unwatched, he stunned the first thing that wandered past – a small rabbit – and knelt over its motionless form. Taking the hairs and the remaining vial of potion from his pockets, he proceeded to drop the silken strands into the murky liquid. Once it stopped bubbling and settled into a lumpy russet-hued sludge, he pried the rabbit's small mouth open and poured the concoction in, forcing the rabbit to swallow.

Almost instantly, the rabbit's ears started to retract into its head. Its legs stretched out and the fur receded. Whiskers disappeared, teeth transformed and, within a moment, a perfect replica of Hermione Granger lay at his feet, completely naked.

Pausing for a brief moment to appreciate the view, Severus proceeded to transfigure leaves into clothing similar to what she had been wearing when she disappeared. Spelling them onto the body and dirtying them up, he said a silent blessing on the poor rabbit-turned-girl and proceeded to cast a powerful Sectumsempra. Blood gushed from severe cuts that had appeared all over the body. Carefully levitating it – _her_, he left the forest with the body bobbing slightly ahead of him.

"I found her," he spat as he rounded the corner of Hagrid's hut. His comrades looked up from their searches and quickly walked back to his side, eager to see the state of their captive.

"Blimey, she did a number on 'erself," whispered Selwynn in awe. "Look at that mess."

"Bugger," muttered Jugson. "There goes my fun."

"Indeed," Snape replied, having heard Jugson's comment with disgust. And with that, he aimed his wand at the girl's face and muttered, "Avada Kedavra." In a flash of green light, she breathed her last and fell to the ground with a thump.

"It is time we return to our Lord. You should be grateful you have _this_ to present as atonement for your transgressions. If you are lucky, perhaps he will be merciful on you, as I have been."

With that, Severus turned on his heel and strode away, robes billowing behind him. On his fifth step, he dissolved and flew away in a cloud of smoke.

Two very anxious Death Eaters watched him leave, then turned to each other in utter terror before grabbing the girl's body and following Snape's lead.

**A/N: **_I can't thank you enough for the kind reviews so far. As I mentioned in my profile, this project is a solitary pursuit. No one in my real life knows what I am up to, so my only feedback comes from your reviews. Thanks for taking the time to read and comment. Sorry for the short chapter, but it was a necessary transition. Up next: We'll find out what Severus has been up to for the past three years, and we'll see what Hermione has to say about it._


	8. Chapter 8

With one final slash of his wand, Severus destroyed the last remaining piece of furniture in the unused classroom, then sank to the floor amidst the smoking rubble with his head in his hands. He was soaked in sweat and literally shaking with rage, grief, regret … it was nearly impossible to put a name to the feelings that were manifesting themselves as nearly uncontrollable surges of magic – an unfortunate side effect of Occluding for so many hours at a time.

His thoughts ran wild with recollections like memories in a Penseive, now free from the confines of his highly compartmentalized mind.

_The battle had been fierce, but somehow he had managed to evade all of the hexes and curses sent his way from his former colleagues and comrades from the Order. Meanwhile, he had, whenever possible, shielded them from harm by diverting Dark spells or killing Death Eaters himself … whenever he thought he could get away with it. It had been terrible watching those he knew fall, but his main goal had been to get to Potter and ensure his understanding and safety until such point as he reached the Dark Lord._

…

_When the castle wall fell in the courtyard, Severus's undetectable Shield Charm had been the only thing keeping Potter from being crushed by debris. Unfortunately, the Dark Lord had chosen that exact moment to call Severus to his side, where he was forced to remain until the very end. With each new report of casualties, Severus had been sure he would learn of the boy's failure. Yet, miraculously, Potter and Weasley survived … until their deaths, of course. Knowing that Granger was on her way, Severus had held back, hoping to spare at least one student, one Order member, a horrible fate. _

…

_Hearing Jugson and Selwynn's lewd comments had almost made him blow his cover to kill them before she ever arrived. But slowly, a plan had formed in his mind. She was clever, even if he had never been allowed to admit it in the past. Perhaps he could save her, not just to assuage his conscience but also to help him finish this once and for all. Seeing her grief, then causing her fear and humiliation, had been difficult, but at least he had taken her to safety and maintained his cover. What would come next was anyone's guess._

…

_He had flown to within 30 meters of the castle steps before landing and closing his eyes. He had needed a moment to recompose himself - or, at least, his Death Eater self. He had been far more shaken than he had realized to witness the deaths of Potter and Weasley. Severus had been released from the Unbreakable Vow to protect Harry when Dumbledore died, but that hadn't stopped him from nearly vomiting at the knowledge that he stood by and did nothing whatsoever to prevent it from happening. And while he may not have liked Weasley, he had always respected Arthur and Molly. He couldn't save their lives, but couldn't he have tried to spare their son?_

_Shaking those thoughts from his head, he had pulled his cloak around him like a shield, Occluded his mind once again and walked the remaining distance to the castle._

…

_Crucio. It had been all he had known for several minutes upon his return to the Dark Lord. Apparently, the castle had refused to grant his Master entrance to the headmaster's office. Though he had writhed in agony, his heart soared to know the castle was continuing to protect him, in its own way. He would do everything in his power to return the favor._

…

_The smell of burning flesh had been putrid, invading his nostrils and even settling somehow in his mouth, but he had endured it, knowing the deception that was Granger's body had gone entirely undetected. In fact, the Dark Lord was so delighted to have "the complete set" that he had sent Jugson and Selwynn back to the edge of the forest to retrieve Potter and what was left of Weasley. Their remains had been dumped on top of Granger and countless others – some students that had been found dead within the castle, others Order members who had been hastily collected from the courtyard – and the whole lot had been torched in some kind of hellish bonfire just outside the castle's main entrance. _

_The Death Eaters danced around the flames and celebrated with Hogwarts' finest brews, but one stayed silent, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, taking in the scene with his usual cold demeanor. No one had been surprised, and for once, Severus had been grateful for his reputation as a cold, heartless bastard who never took part in the festivities._

…

_He had finally exited the Great Hall, released from the waning revel at last to go prepare potions for the wounded Death Eaters. Once that task was complete, he would be allowed to retire for a few days to rest and "celebrate" before returning to the school – his privilege for being one of the Inner Circle. The other, lower-ranking Death Eaters would see to repairs and security at the school and at the Ministry._

_Once out in the main corridor, he had come face-to-face with the true extent of the destruction that had taken place within the castle that had been his home nearly his whole life. Seeing the stairs littered with bodies, blood and debris had been the final straw. With a snarl of rage, he thundered toward the dungeons. Flinging open the door to an unused classroom, he had barged in, warded it nine ways from Sunday and given in to his misery._

…

Returning to the present, he lifted his head and saw the destruction all around him. Casting Reparo, Severus watched as all the desks, chairs and bookcases became whole once more. _How many times have I destroyed this very classroom after a meeting with Evil himself? _He gave a huff and a shake of his head. _It is just as well we never had need of this space for students. Otherwise, Merlin only knows what I might have done instead._

Once he ensured that all was in order, Severus left the classroom and briskly walked down the corridor to his lab, where he hoped to spend only a few hours brewing before escaping the castle and attending to one Hermione Granger, currently lying unconscious in the lounge of his unplottable, secret-kept hidey-hole.

Entering the lab, Severus felt an immediate sense of calm. One cannot make potions in the same space year after year without feeling at home and at peace in the place. He removed his robes and coat, cast a drying charm on his sweat-soaked hair and shirt, and rolled up his sleeves. Collecting several ingredients, he set about preparing the elixirs the Dark Lord had requested, thankful that experience and muscle memory allowed his mind to wander during the task.

The last twenty-odd years had been one long nightmare. If it wasn't the Dark Lord consuming him, it was thoughts of Lily and regret over his role in her death. He swore to protect her son, only for Potter to recklessly make his way from one near-death situation to the next, usually dragging his friends into the mess along with him. _Just like his father, _Severus mused. _And in the end, they both fell to the same wizard._

Albus had ruled with an iron, albeit benevolent, fist, but he had come to love Severus in his own way, just as Severus had returned that sentiment, hungry for someone, _anyone _to show him some compassion and tenderness. As a result, Albus' request for a merciful – and strategic – death only added to Severus' torment. Then followed three of the worst years of his life, having to continue his quest to bring down the Dark Lord from the inside without the benefit of any support or assistance from the Order.

_The Order._ He nearly kicked his workbench in disgust. _They abandoned me without so much as a by your leave. They left me to wallow in the Darkness as though it were the inevitable conclusion of my sorry life. Bastards._

Forced to play the role of evil Headmaster, Severus was reviled by students and staff alike. He couldn't give away his true loyalties by showing fairness and kindness to all and sundry, but he did make sure that punishments were less … severe … when he was able to intervene. _Didn't they understand that I was protecting them from far worse fates? Didn't they realize that sabotaging my every move only made it more difficult for me to insulate them from the Carrows' sadistic tendencies?_

Despite his best efforts, there were tragic losses. Little Anna Wainthright, a Gryffindor whose tiny body couldn't recover from the severe beating received at the hands of Amycus, _the swine. _And Michael Bellamy, a Hufflepuff killed by a gang of Slytherins whose thirst for revenge led them to slit his neck because he dared to say something about their Dark Marks.

McFarland, Slytherin – raped and left to die outside the gates of Hogwarts after she refused to be take the Mark.

Alden, Gryffindor – poisoned, quite dramatically, at dinner for holding hands with a Muggleborn.

Johnson, Ravenclaw and Muggleborn – eyes gouged out and throat slit for merely existing.

The list of names went on, each face forever etched into Severus's psyche. And now, he could add to that list. Minerva. Filius. Pomona. Arthur. Molly. Nymphadora. Lupin. _Potter._

The boy had shown far more courage during his last moments than Severus had expected. But then again, so much had happened over the last several years that one could hardly be blamed for not foreseeing it all – not even the nearly omniscient Albus. Potter's whole life had been lived for one final moment. He was the last Horcrux, destined to be destroyed by the Dark Lord himself, whether either fully understood why or not.

And the way things ended … well, it was more than Severus could have asked for, really. Potter managed to kill the snake before his death, so now all that was left was to find a way to kill a quite-mortal Dark wizard, a task that he planned to complete posthaste, no matter the cost to himself.

Shaking his head, he thought, _Come now, Severus. You know it is not that simple._

The Dark Lord was cunning, and it would be difficult to attack him without raising an alarm first. Possible, but very, very difficult, especially since it appeared he found out about the Horcruxes in those last few minutes of Potter's life. However, the greater issue was how to do the deed so that it actually _mattered_. After all, the Death Eaters were many; surely another would rise from among their ranks to fill the vacancy left by their dearly departed Master. One who had the power and means necessary to overpower the others.

"Lucius," he hissed, before resuming his task of crushing lionfish spines with more force than was strictly necessary.

No, he would have to bide his time until the way forward was absolutely crystal clear. And after the events of the last 24 hours, that point in time seemed further away than ever. Never, not once in all the years of tedious planning with Albus, had he ever considered a future in which every single member of the Order was gone.

Oh, they knew they were outnumbered, but based on the intelligence he had supplied for so many years, they also knew they had the advantage in terms of strategy and sheer magical power. The Dark Lord was exceedingly powerful, yes, and a few among his followers – namely, Severus, Lucius and Bellatrix – were nearly unmatched in their fighting ability. But the vast majority of the Death Eaters were merely adequate, surviving on luck more than skill.

But it appeared that luck – and time – had been on the Dark side during the battle at Hogwarts. Too many years had passed since Severus had traveled in the Order's circles. And even when he did, he wasn't entirely sure they ever trusted him. In truth, he had no idea how many members had still been alive before yesterday. There had been several casualties during the minor skirmishes he had observed over the years. _But how in the name of Merlin has the entire Order fallen? It is completely unthinkable. There simply is no contingency plan for this._

Of course, it really shouldn't have come as a surprise. Without their spy, the Order had no way of knowing when or even if such a battle would ever happen. Indeed, the day's events had taken Severus himself by surprise. It seemed that the Dark Lord had kept certain details close to the vest, not sharing them with even his most trusted servants.

It had taken everything Severus had to remain impassive once he realized what was happening. Oh, how he struggled as he heard the battle reports roll in. His wand arm itched to curse those who gloated over particular inventive killings, but he knew he had to stay the course until Potter arrived for the final confrontation with the Dark Lord. It was the only way to ensure that events unfolded as intended.

Thanks to his position as headmaster, he had kept somewhat loose tabs on the trio over the past three years via Phineas Black's portrait in his office, but that intelligence was limited and sporadic. Severus, of course, knew of the Horcruxes and tried to find out what they were and where they were located. But in the end, the best he could do was provide very limited and extremely covert assistance to Potter and his friends – medical supplies near places they were known to be; clues to discover and, hopefully, interpret and use correctly; a sword that just happened to have belonged to Godric Gryffindor …

The last remaining Horcruxes – the diadem and the cup – had been the most elusive, but based on what Severus could glean from Potter's mind before his death, both had been found and destroyed. As, of course, had the snake and … the boy himself.

_Damned prophecy. So many dead in the name of Potter and words uttered by a half-mad, sometime Seer. And for what? Nothing … there is nothing left to save even if I can manage to kill the Dark Lord. Well, except for …_

The Granger girl. Now _that _had been an unexpected development. If he could convince her of his loyalty to the Order, then perhaps he wouldn't have to work alone in his quest to end the war.

_But therein lies the problem, does it not? I have to convince her, and that task will make resisting the Dark Lord seem like a stroll along the Thames on a fine summer day. _He let out a mirthless laugh. _Who would have ever thought I would cower at the notion of trying to persuade a bushy-haired know-it-all that I am all that is left of the Light?_

Making the final clockwise stir in the Burn-Healing Paste, Severus doused the flame and, as he had done for each of the three previous potions – indeed, for nearly every potion brewed for the Dark Lord over the past several years – he carefully dropped in a single spider eye, rendering the entire cauldron full of potion 60 percent less effective. It would look the same and smell the same, but it would take much longer to heal even the simplest wound. _I do what I can,_ he thought with a smirk.

Crating everything up and returning the lab to its previous pristine condition, Severus swept out of the room to deliver the goods to the Hospital Wing and get the hell out of there before the Dark Lord changed his mind.

**A/N:** _Sorry to stop here, but it seemed a logical place to end this chapter. Thanks again for the feedback. Love it or hate it, let me know._


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione felt like she was floating on water, jostled by an occasional wave but otherwise weightless. There was no sense of sight or smell or taste. Just an awareness of … being.

After some time, or no time at all, she heard the clearing of a throat and a deep voice.

"Miss Granger? Miss Granger, can you hear me?"

That voice was familiar, but she couldn't quite identify it. It probably didn't matter. Or maybe it did.

The waves kicked up just then and the voice grew louder.

"Miss Granger, open your eyes."

That voice again. _So familiar._ _Like parchment, and desks. Books._

Cracking an eye, she could see two faces (_one? No, two. I think.)_ staring intently into her own. _Dark hair. And those eyes. Wait, I know …_

"Professor Snape? What—?"

"Do not attempt to move. I have given you a dose of Wiggenwald Potion, and you need to—"

"Oh God, I must have fallen asleep in class. I'm sorry sir!" Panic washed over her as she tried to sort her thoughts. _Wiggenwald potion. But … but …_ "Didn't I turn in my essay on antidotes to sleeping potions and spells last week, sir? I know I gave you four feet instead of the requisite two, but I just thought you might appreciate a more thorough study of …"

Her eye drifted closed and she was back on the waves. Floating, floating. _It's nice here. If only the waves would stop bumping me. Is that a hand on my shoulder?_

"Miss Granger. Granger!"

"Hmmmm?" Her eyes (both, this time) opened slightly. _Definitely just one face. Who is that again?_

"Perhaps you can tell me what you know about the Wiggenwald Potion."

"Potion? Oh right, it's you. Snape. I mean, Professor Snape. Sir. Well, the Wiggenwald Potion is used to wake someone from a magically induced sleep. It contains salamander blood, flobberworm mucous and honey water. It must be carefully combined and, ah … heated at each stage until reaching its final color. Erm, green. The color of a mature toad."

"Textbook response, as usual. And its side effects?"

She was studying the brocade cushion on the couch with great interest when it registered that perhaps someone had spoken to her. "I'm sorry. What?"

"The effects, Miss Granger."

"Oh, erm, I think … yes, side effects include narcolepsy, mood swings, delirium, paranoia and … and … oh dear, what is the last one? Are you testing me on this? I do hope I earn an O. You never give Os."

"Memory lapses, Miss Granger. The last is memory lapses. Fortunately, the effects are temporary. And yes, you earn an O. Very good."

At this, her eyes widened, and she blinked a few times. "You never say 'very good.' Never, ever, never."

She sat up a little and studied him more fully. "Wait a minute, you aren't you. I mean, you're _you _but you're not real. The real Professor Snape would never give an O, not even when I deserved it, which I did nearly every time. And he would never be sitting on a tea table in his shirtsleeves. Oh no, always that damn frockcoat and billowing robes. He must have charmed those robes to do that, don't you think? So I must be dreaming. Is dreaming one of the effects of Wiggenwald? I can't remember." She sat back again and shrugged. "Well, when I wake up I'll have to look that one up."

And then she giggled. "I can't wait to tell Harry and Ron that I dreamed about Professor Snape! I can hear Ron now. 'Blimey, that's no dream, Hermione. That's a bloody nightmare!'"

Peals of laughter echoed around the room and she had a hard time composing herself. Turning back to her definitely-not-real Professor, who now stood with his arms crossed over his chest and a sour look on his face, she smiled up at him and said, "It's okay, Professor. You're not really you, and anyway, Ron's right. You are a nightmare. A great, big bat of a nightmare."

At this, she scowled, lowered her voice and said, "Detention, Miss Granger. And 50,000 points from Gryffindor for having the gall to breathe."

A fresh round of giggles bubbled up in her chest, but before she could fully express her mirth, her eyes rolled back into her head, which lolled to one side as she once more floated on the waves.

/

Looking down at the girl in irritation, Severus was beginning to wonder if he should have waited until he was more rested to wake her. _She always was practically unbearable even in the best of circumstances. But now? I simply do not have the energy for this. _He slouched into the armchair next to the sofa to wait out the remainder of the potion's side effects.

Several moments passed before he heard her stir again. Looking over, he saw her peering around the room, studying her surroundings.

"Miss Granger?"

"This isn't a dream, is it? And this isn't our tent. Did you know we have a tent? I'm tired of the tent. It smells of mildew. We're not in an inn, either. At least I don't think we are. Because why would you be at an inn with us? And you're not real ... unless you are. But then you'd be yelling at me, and you're not. Oooh, are we at the new Order headquarters?"

"No, we are not."

Another moment passed, and she said, "You're right. You have to be right, because you aren't part of the Order anymore. You're a spy. Well, you were always a spy, but it turned out you're _their_ spy instead of ours. Because … what was it? I … oh. You're…. you… Dumbledore …"

Severus stepped back out of reach of her arms and legs and waited. _Here we go. Lucidity returns in three … _

"But that means we've been …"

… _two …_

"… and they haven't …"

… _one._

"YOU!" she screeched, backing into the corner of the sofa as far as she could go and pulling the blanket up to her chin. She looked at him with eyes as wide as saucers, rage and betrayal written all over her face. "Get away from me, you _traitor!_"

Severus just stood, waiting while she worked through the rest of it. It was almost entertaining to watch her process the facts about her situation. He could see everything roll across her face as plain as if it were written on the front page of the _Daily Prophet. _He nearly shook his head as he watched her mouth gape open in shock then snap shut in indignation. _Bloody_ _Gryffindors. _

Finally, the proverbial newt dropped and she looked once again toward him, this time staring in utter terror.

"What do you want from me? Where have you taken me? Did you … did you _drug _me?" As soon as she said that, another thought seemed to have crossed her mind, because she tugged the blanket higher and pulled her knees up to her chest. "What did you do to me?" she whispered.

"Not to worry, Miss Granger. Your virtue is quite safe from me," Severus said in as bland a voice as he could manage. "You have had a fright, of course. But there is nothing to fear here. Please, relax."

"Relax? How can you expect me to relax? You nearly molested me!"

"Correction. I _saved_ you from being molested."

"What, so you could do the deed yourself? Besides, you're a murderer! You killed Dumbledore, and you're a Death Eater. Who knows how many people you've tortured and killed … or worse!"

Gathering up her resolve, Hermione dropped the blanket back down to her chest, tilted her chin up and said, "Go ahead, then, kill me. I won't tell you anything, and I'd rather die than spend another moment in the company of a murdering Death Eater traitor … bastard!"

"How terribly noble of you, Miss Granger. However, I ask that you cease the dramatics. I am neither going to kill you nor injure you in any way. It is absolutely imperative that we come to an understanding on several points, and quickly. Now, if you are able to rein in your tongue – although I very much doubt it given your tendencies while at Hogwarts – then we may continue."

He watched as she looked frantically around the room, searching for an out. Realizing that there were no other threats in the room as well as virtually no chance of escaping the man even if she tried, she looked back to him and narrowed her eyes.

"Give me your wand."

Severus rolled his eyes. "That would be foolish in the extreme. I will not hand over my or _any_ wand to a witch who has barely recovered from a Stunning Spell, a magically induced sleep and the effects of a powerful antidote – and that just since she came under my supervision."

"You Stunned me _too_? Merlin, you just can't stop yourself, can you?"

Giving her his trademark Professor Snape glare, which appeared to have absolutely no effect, he continued. "I will, however, place my wand on this table, out of your reach and soon out of mine." He reached into his sleeve and extracted his wand with a flourish. He smirked when Granger flinched dramatically, but then, with a solemn face, he leaned over the tea table in front of the sofa and carefully deposited his wand before stepping back.

The girl looked between him and the wand several times before once again narrowing her eyes and staring up at him. After several tense moments, Severus grimaced, reached into the other sleeve, pulled out a second wand and dropped it on the table with a clatter.

Looking back at her, he was met with the sight of a raised eyebrow and eyes that conveyed complete mistrust. After yet another staring match, he sighed, bent over and pulled a third wand from his dragon hide boot. Straightening up, he flung it on the table and said in a voice dripping with sarcasm, "There. I am completely disarmed and at your mercy. May we proceed?"

She paused, then nodded once before tossing her head slightly, indicating that he should continue.

"Very well, then. I assume you have regained most of your mental faculties, so listen closely. As you may have surmised, the Dark Lord was victorious last night—"

"Wait, last night? How long have I been in this … wherever we are?"

"Approximately 17 hours. However, that is irrelevant when—"

"I was unconscious for 17 hours? What's been happening? I have to contact the others, find out who's left. They're probably worried sick about me!"

"Miss Granger, what part of 'the Dark Lord was victorious' did you not understand? His victory was, shall we say, quite complete. I'm afraid there is no one 'left,' as you put it."

"Yes, and that's just what you'd like me to believe, isn't it? _Poor little girl, all alone in the world, and she'll just have to trust the big, bad, murdering traitor, who is also, by the way, a Death Eater bastard._ Well, there is no way in hell I'm going to sit here with _you_ when—"

"Miss Granger, I am afraid you do not understand the situation in which—"

"—rather take my chances out there, thank you very—"

"Granger, would you just—"

"—be on my way!"

Severus sighed and made a slight movement with his hand, just as she peeled back the blanket and made to stand. Her movement was halted as she sat up, leaving her unable to move anything but her head. Her mouth opened to protest, but no sound came out. Indignant whiskey-colored eyes turned toward Severus demanding an explanation.

"Wandless magic, Miss Granger. Never underestimate your opponent. Did you learn nothing in your Defense class?" Severus asked before giving a triumphant smirk. "Ah, that's right. You did not complete your studies. How unfortunate … for you."

Then his face became like stone and his voice dropped into a lower register and hardened. "I tried this your way, now you will do it my way. You will listen to me and you will not interrupt me. Failure to comply will not. be. tolerated. Am I understood?"

Granger gave him an acid look, but eventually she nodded.

"Now then. As I was saying, the Dark Lord was victorious last night, but he was not undamaged. You and your little friends had a mission to complete. Am I correct in thinking that you found and destroyed all of the known Horcruxes except one?"

Granger's eyes widened at this information, clearly surprised that Severus had this knowledge. _Good,_ he thought. _The advantage is mine, then._

"Yes, Miss Granger. I was privy to the information Albus gave Potter regarding the Dark Lord's quest for immortality. I know quite a bit about your activities over the past three years and have, in fact, been working toward the same end."

He could see that she was practically vibrating with the need to speak. "Pardon my lack of hospitality. It appears you would like to say something, is that correct?"

A very bushy head nodded vigorously, so he waved his hand and lifted the Silencio Spell, leaving her bound.

"How could you possibly have known that? It took us _months_ to work out what Dumbledore wanted us to do. You couldn't have—"

"Oh? Couldn't I? And why not? I was, after all, a spy for the Order. Albus told me everything before he asked me to kill him. And before you open your mouth again, yes, he asked it of me, for reasons I do not wish to explain at this time. Now, did you or did you not destroy those Horcruxes?"

The girl was clearly at war with herself, and he didn't blame her, really. How was she to know that he wasn't simply interrogating her for the Dark Lord?

"Listen to me very carefully. Potter destroyed the snake. Nagini is dead," he said seriously, noting with satisfaction that her eyes shifted at that news. _She is utterly transparent. Typical Gryffindor with her heart on her sleeve. She would never have survived in Slytherin House._

Severus decided to press his advantage. "The Dark Lord may very well be mortal again, but I must know for certain the status of the other Horcruxes. Answer me now, or I will simply have a look for myself. Or perhaps you think a bit of Veritaserum is appropriate in this situation?"

A brief look of panic, and then she spoke. "FINE. We believe there are – were – six total Horcruxes. One was Tom Riddle's diary, destroyed several years ago. Another was the cursed ring that Dumbledore destroyed. But of course you know about those. Then there was Salazar Slytherin's locket, Helga Hufflepuff's cup and Rowena Ravenclaw's lost diadem – all of which have been found and destroyed, some as recently as … yesterday? The day before? Well, before last night, anyway. That just leaves the snake. But you say she is dead, so there you have it, all six accounted for."

"Seven."

"What? No, there were six. You should know this."

"What I _know_ is that there were seven Horcruxes – six made intentionally, and one made by accident."

"And how, exactly, does one make a Horcrux by accident?"

"By attempting to kill a person only to have the curse rebound, forcing a bit of soul into the only other living thing nearby. Sound familiar?"

"I don't understand. That's impossible. No one can survive the … wait, are you saying _Harry _is a Horcrux?"

"_Was_ a Horcrux, and that is exactly what I am saying." He noticed that her eyes had begun to fill with tears and her breathing started to become erratic. In an effort to stave off the waterworks, he added, "He died well, if it is any consolation."

Her head snapped up and she blurted out with a sob, "He died? You were _there_? You watched him die and didn't stop it? What kind of man are you to stand by and do nothing?"

Anger flared up hot inside Severus, and he couldn't help but fight back. "Apparently I am a murdering, traitorous, Death Eater bastard, as you so righteously pointed out not five minutes ago. Why would you expect anything less from me? And of course he died. You saw him. After."

"Harry's dead? Did Vold—"

"DO NOT say his name!" he hissed, causing her to flinch at his venomous tone. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he continued, "I have had to stand by and do nothing more times than I can count, but I have also intervened to prevent injury and death many, many more times. You know _nothing_ of what I have done to ensure the success of your little mission, to protect you three so that we could get to this point. Know this: Potter's death was absolutely necessary. Weasley was merely collateral damage, and I could not risk our objective to save him."

Granger started to cry in earnest. "Ron too? Oh Ron! And he was my friend, you bastard, _not_ collateral damage!"

_Oh shite. That was the wrong thing to say. Damn it all, don't witches ever run out of tears? Wait, how does she not remember any of this? We have already been over the fact that no one survived. Ah, the potion._

"Miss Granger, you appear to still be suffering from some residual effects of the antidote. It should have worn off by now, but it seems your short-term memory is not yet stable. Tell me, when was the last time you ate?"

She sniffed before looking up at him. "How can you think of food at a time like this? God, I haven't eaten in days. I think. Well, there was a bowl of stew at the Hog's Head Inn before we entered the school, but I can't remember when that was. That place is filthy, by the way. Don't eat there if you can help it. So, I guess I'm hungry. But I don't want to eat until I find Harry, Ron and the others!"

He raised an eyebrow at her, then stalked over to the potions cabinet, where he withdrew a small vial. Returning to Granger, he held up the yellow liquid and said, "This is a nourishment solution. It will help your body metabolize the remainder of the antidote, which should not have been taken on such an empty stomach. Apparently I … misjudged your state of health. Open your mouth."

"I'm not taking anything you give me! Do you think I'm crazy? You might poison me, or drug me again or _something_. Constant vigilance and all that!" She looked positively triumphant. "Now who wasn't listening in Defense class, hmm Professor? I'm no—"

Once again, Severus twitched his hand with a wandless spell and her head froze, mouth in a perfect "o." He stepped over to her and poured in the potion before ending the spell, freeing her completely.

After a few spluttering coughs, Hermione managed to spit out a few of the more colorful words in the English language before yelling, "That was uncalled for!"

"I think not."

"I think so! You drugged me again, and for what? Oh right, the supposed side effects. Well, I don't see what the problem is – except for you, of course. _You_ are a major problem. I'm perfectly fi— oh … oh … oh my God!" Once again, her eyes widened, but this time in full understanding of what exactly had transpired over the course of the battle.

"Harry and Ron, d-dead? And the others, too?" she asked in a small voice. "They're all … gone? That's what you said, and I didn't believe you. But now I remember. _I saw them. _There was blood and … and …"

For the first time since waking up, she looked down at her hands, then her clothing, all of which was now crusty with the dried blood of her friends and fellow Order members. Reaching her hand to her face to wipe away the tears that had started to fall again, she pulled it away suddenly, only to see the bloodstained fluid dripping from her fingertips. Her eyes bulged out at the site, and she looked back frantically at Snape.

A mere moment before she realized it herself, Snape understood what was coming and conjured up a bucket on the floor between her feet, where she promptly vomited up the meager contents of her stomach.

Shaking and trying to catch her breath, she spat, "Get away from me. I can't even look at you. You were supposed to help us, and instead you betrayed us. You led everyone to their deaths! You helped _him_ win!"

"Miss Granger, you are upset. However, there is much you do not yet understand. Our situation is tenuous and we must—"

"No! I don't want anything to do with you. I just want to go! Please just let me go! I need … oh God!" She stood up with a cry and dashed for the nearest door in hopes it would lead to a bathroom.

Severus was two steps ahead of her, clamping a hand on her upper arm and guiding her to the correct door. She tried to fling off his helping hand but was soon overcome by her nausea. Dropping to her knees in front of the toilet, she retched again, moaning between bouts of sickness. "Oh Harry. Ron! Oh God oh God oh God. Why you? Not Ginny, too! No! NO! Everyone … oh Merlin!"

Severus watched from the doorway, eyebrows furrowed. Unfortunately, he knew exactly what she was feeling. He had spent many a night covered in the blood of others and bent over the loo at the thought of the horrors he had witnessed or, worse, participated in at the whim of one master or another. If he hadn't already had time to work through the worst of his own rage and shock at the events of the past 24 hours, he had no doubt he'd be fighting her for space over the bowl.

Suddenly she stood up and started pulling at her clothes with a whimper. She struggled out of her gore-encrusted denim jacket and threw it across the room. It hit Severus in the stomach and he almost grabbed at it out of instinct, but instead let it drop to the floor. Watching closely, he saw her try to push her hair back out of her face, only to stop as soon as she realized the tangled mess was also covered in dried blood.

Her cries began to rise in pitch as she became more and more panicked at the state she was in. Severus moved awkwardly toward her, doing his best to provide some kind words, but she was unable, or unwilling, to hear them as she wailed and tugged at her shoes and socks. He finally stepped around her, turned on the shower, and reached over to guide her under the steaming stream. Granger slapped his arms away and continued peeling off her bloody clothes.

Left with no other choice, Severus toed off his boots and wrapped his arms firmly around her, pinning her upper arms and holding her tightly against his chest. Then he maneuvered them both into the shower and positioned her directly under the spray. She squealed and fought, but was no match for his strength.

He continued to hold her tightly until she wore herself out. She eventually sagged against him in nothing more than her vest and knickers, sobbing and clinging to him as if he were the only dry land in a tempestuous sea … a sea that swirled and ran down the drain, colored red by the blood of so many friends.

Severus sighed and slowly lowered them both to the floor of the shower, understanding only too well the shock of one's first taste of war and the need to wash away the taint of evil. There they sat, wrapped in each other's arms and lost in their own sorrows, memories and regrets as the scalding water flowed.

The rest would have to wait.


	10. Chapter 10

Breathing deeply, Hermione inhaled the scent of the shampoo she was rubbing through her tangled tresses.

_Rosemary and mint. Lather, rinse, repeat … repeat, repeat, ad infinitum._

It had taken two applications of shampoo just to work her fingers through the snarls to her scalp. A third finally loosened the last of the dried blood that had stubbornly clung to her hair. The fourth and fifth washes were just because she didn't think her hair would ever feel clean again.

Plus, it gave her time to collect herself. Sooner or later, she would have to leave the bathroom and face him, and she didn't know if she could, not after everything that had happened.

_She had stopped crying, only to realize she was sitting on the floor of a steamy shower clutching a very wet Severus Snape. Backing away to the farthest corner, she had just stared at him, wondering how in the name of Circe she had gotten herself into this situation. _

_An embarrassed-looking Snape had cleared his throat, averted his eyes and said, "I will leave you to it, then." Standing up, he had quickly stepped out of the shower and closed the glass door behind him. The steam had obscured her view, but she could see his form as he toweled off his dripping hair and clothes and exited the room._

_It was then that she had noticed she wasn't wearing anything but her knickers and a dingy sleeveless undershirt. She had vague memories of losing it over the amount of blood on her clothes, but she hadn't realized that she'd stripped practically naked right in front of him._

Shame burned fresh in her face and she scrubbed her hands vigorously through her hair again as if to wash away the memory. Swallowing the lump that formed in her throat, she blinked her tear-filled eyes and tried to focus on what to do next.

Ever the list-maker, she set forth cataloging everything she knew for sure about her current circumstances.

_Fact: Harry and Ron are dead, as are the rest of the Order members. _

_Fact: I am not dead, and neither is Severus Snape._

_Fact: Voldemort is alive and victorious. _

_Fact: All of the Horcruxes have been destroyed, which means Voldemort is mortal._

_Fact: I have no wand._

_Fact: Snape brought me here. (Note: Find out where 'here' is.)_

_Fact: Snape has not harmed me. Yet._

_Fact: …._

Having run out of facts, Hermione turned her attention to murkier issues while she worked conditioner through her hair.

_How does Snape know what we've been doing these past few years? Did Dumbledore really ask Snape to kill him? Is it possible that he's been on our side all along? Can I trust him? Of course, the bigger question is whether I even have a choice._

She rinsed a final time, enjoying the luxury of a hot shower in spite of her current dilemma. _Merlin, it's been forever since I've had a good washing up. Cleansing charms can't hold a candle to running water and real soap._

Reaching over, she turned the water off and stepped out, really looking around for the first time. The bathroom was fairly basic – pedestal sink, linen closet, window and a large walk-in shower. _No marble and magical faucets here_, she mused. _If it weren't for the never-ending hot water, I'd assume this was a purely Muggle house._

She grabbed a towel from the rack and started to dry off, wincing as she brushed past her left shoulder. _That's right, someone got me with a hex,_ she thought, before twisting around in front of the mirror to take a look. The skin was blistered, raw and oozing, but overall, the damage was fairly minor – nothing a few applications of Burn Paste couldn't treat.

Raising her eyes back to the mirror, she studied her reflection. The past three years had been difficult in so many ways, and it showed in her face. Dark circles under her eyes spoke of too many sleepless nights. Hollow cheeks were testament to hungry days. A small scar at the edge of her lower lip and a much larger one across her neck were souvenirs of a dark time in the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange – as was another set of scars on her arm, which still hurt, though not physically, whenever she happened to think about them. An oozing cut just above her right eyebrow was the newest mark. Reaching up to touch it, she wondered idly if Snape had any ointment that could heal it without a scar.

Of course, the passage of time had also altered her looks. No longer an awkward teenager, she had grown into her features and could almost be considered pretty, _in a tattered, half-starved sort of way, _she thought with a cynical shake of her head. Her hair was a tragedy, like always, but even it had matured and, when clean and managed, hung in heavy curls down her back. Factoring in her extensive use of the time turner back at Hogwarts, Hermione figured her actual age to be close to 22, but her eyes told the story of someone much older who had seen and done things no one should ever have to see or do. And that brought her right back to where she started … the brink of tears.

She and the boys had often dreamed of what life would be like when the war ended. On their best days, they envisioned a world where everyone survived intact – whole, healthy and happy. Evil had been vanquished, and all was well in the wizarding world. Everyone got married, had babies and lived happily ever after.

On the darkest days, when news would filter over the Wizarding Wireless about some minor skirmish or another that had left so-and-so dead or maimed, they would talk about the high cost of victory, and how each death would be avenged on that final day when they would take down Voldemort once and for all. The "ever after" would be more bittersweet, to be sure, but it would still come to pass.

Never, not once since they first heard the names Voldemort, Tom Riddle, Death Eaters, Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange, had they ever considered a future where the Order failed … where Dark banished Light and the only ever after, if you were lucky (or not lucky, however you want to think of it), was a life lived under the thumb of a maniac and his minions.

_We were arrogant fools to think this couldn't happen._

Shaking her head in anger, Hermione decided that there was no more delaying the inevitable. She finished drying off and turned to find her beaded bag, which contained extra clothing, toiletries and basic first-aid supplies. She stopped in cold shock to see that her bag and her clothes were gone, everything except the sodden vest and knickers she'd taken off and thrown into the bin after Snape left. _That bastard took my things!_

Opening the linen closet in a panic, she searched for a dressing gown or some spare clothing, but there was nothing but sheets and towels. Without a wand to transfigure something more modest, and dead-set against putting on her wet and filthy underclothes, she had no choice but to wrap herself in a sheet, toga-like, and head for the door.

Bracing herself for the humiliation of asking Snape for help, she opened the door a crack and peered out into the hallway. Looking left and right, she realized that he wasn't nearby. She was just about to call for him when she happened to look down. There, at her feet, was a pile of cloth. _A set of robes! _Snatching them up, she shut the door and put them on. They were far too big, but anything was better than a sheet.

An odd thought crossed her mind, and she stepped over to the window and lifted the blinds. It was dark outside. _It must be the middle of the night. Sunrise seems so long ago. _Tentatively, she reached out to open the window's latch, only to feel the intense tingle of magical wards. _Of course. This is Snape we're talking about._

Dropping the blinds, she walked back to the door, opened it and stepped out into the dark hall, which had a door at one end and a door across from the bathroom. Turning left, she stepped quietly toward the dimly lit room ahead of her. When she reached the doorway, she paused, entranced by the sight.

Snape was facing away from her, one hand braced against the fireplace mantle and the other resting against his hip. His head hung down as he stared at the glowing flames, seemingly lost in thought. His feet were bare and he was dressed in his usual black trousers. His white shirt was untucked and rolled up at the sleeves. She had never seen the man looking so … human. It unnerved her.

"Erm …"

At the sound, Snape's head snapped up and he turned toward her, quickly schooling his features into a bland expression. "Miss Granger."

"Professor."

"I trust you are feeling … better."

"Oh. Yes. Thank you for … erm … the robes." She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, then started again. "I feel I should apologize for … before. My behavior earlier was—"

"Expected. And forgiven. You had quite a shock. And, as you are aware, the more … unusual … effects of Wiggenwald Potion are well documented. You need not be concerned."

She blushed to the roots of her hair as she recalled some of the things she had said before the potion's effects faded. "Oh. Right. … Well, thank you anyway." She dropped her eyes and fiddled with the overly long sleeve of her robes. "Erm, I was wondering if you have my things. I need my bag. Please."

"Of course," he replied as he gestured toward the tea table, where she was surprised to see his wands still sitting from earlier in the evening. Next to them sat her bag, her message Galleon and a few odd scraps of parchment … everything that had been in her pockets. "I took the liberty of disposing of your clothing. I assumed you would not wish to wear it again."

Looking at him uncertainly, she stepped forward toward the table and reached for her bag. Her hand hovered over the wands for just a moment, but she fought the urge to arm herself. _He could have taken them back while I was in the shower, but he didn't_, she reasoned_. Maybe he trusts me. Perhaps I should return the favor._

Gathering up her belongings instead of a wand, she turned and saw him studying her intently. After meeting his eyes, she nodded and made her way back to the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her.

/

Severus let out a ragged breath. After leaving Granger in the shower, he had come back out to the living area and used his wand to dry himself off and sort out her things. Her clothing was beyond ruined, so he simply vanished it after removing the contents of her pockets.

The bag, now that had been an interesting discovery. It was rather small and oddly impractical, with its beaded design and dainty strap. _Why in the world did she carry such a thing while traipsing all over the country with two idiot boys? _But upon picking it up, he heard a rattle, as if great stacks of things had toppled over and shifted. Finding it warded shut, he cast a few spells and determined that it was charmed to be vastly larger on the inside than on the outside. _Very clever,_ he noted with approval before setting it aside.

He had started to return his wands to their rightful places on his person, but something made him stop mid-action and return them to the tea table. _Let her see that I'm still unarmed. It may help pave the way for our discussion. A discussion I am not looking forward to having, especially after that little incident in the bathroom._

He wasn't sure who had been embarrassed more, him or her. What in the seven circles of hell had he been thinking? _Well, obviously, you were _not_ thinking, you idiot. Acting like a barmy Hufflepuff. You would have been better off leaving her alone with her emotions than ending up holding a sobbing, half-naked witch on the floor of a shower. Who did you think you were, Albus bloody Dumbledore, the Great Comforter? No, you looked like some lecherous old man, trying to cop a feel._

But then she had come out of the bathroom – with wet hair and pink cheeks, wearing a robe that was five sizes too big – and _thanked _him before apologizing for her behavior. Not only that, but she had also passed up the chance to pull a wand on him, even though she was obviously tempted to do that very thing.

_Hermione Granger is turning out to be quite the surprise_, Severus thought before turning toward the kitchen. It was pushing midnight, and he was certain she was as tired and hungry as he was. They would eat and address the most pressing issues now, and then– provided she didn't find a way to hex him first – they would both get some rest.

_Merlin knows we need it,_ he though, pressing a weary hand to his tired eyes.

/

Hermione exited the bathroom feeling a little more like herself. She'd found her toothbrush and scrubbed away the lingering taste of potions and vomit. Then, she'd dug out her hairbrush and set to work. It'd taken ages to work out the tangles but the job was done. Her hair would take forever to dry without magic, but that was the least of her worries.

She'd been unable to find the Burn Paste, and without a wand she couldn't summon it. She also couldn't enlarge any of the shrunken items in her bag – namely her heavy trunk with all of her clothing. So, still dressed in the oversized robe and sporting a tender shoulder, she followed her nose to the small but well-appointed kitchen, where she found Snape standing over the cooker stirring a pot of soup. Off to the side was a platter of simple sandwiches and some sliced apples.

"Miss Granger. Please, have a seat. We need to talk, and we might as well do it over a meal."

She sat down in the nearest chair and watched as he poured two bowls of soup and brought them to the table on plates. A negligent wave of his hand caused the sandwich platter to follow, along with two large glasses of water.

Sitting down, he gestured for her to begin. "Eat. You will feel better if you do."

Doubting that, she nonetheless picked up her spoon and dipped it into the brothy beef soup. They ate in silence for several awkward minutes before she set down her utensils and glanced up at the mystery sitting before her. He looked awful, like he hadn't slept well in weeks. Stubble dotted his chin. _He probably hasn't stopped moving for two days straight,_ she mused.

"What is this place?"

He lifted his eyes to hers, finished chewing and wiped his mouth with a napkin before answering. "I imagine you have quite a few questions. I will attempt to answer them all completely but know that I am bound by magic to protect certain information. Do you understand?"

She nodded, and he continued. "We are at a safe house created for me by Albus Dumbledore before he died. He knew that my position as a spy was dangerous and could be discovered by the Dark Lord or his followers at any time. He thought it best to give me a well-stocked retreat to which I could escape if necessary. It was intended as an action of last resort. I have not been back since we set the wards several years ago. However, the situation, as it stands, seemed to suggest it was time to pay a visit."

"Have you been discovered?"

"No," he said, although she rather thought his tone implied 'not yet.'

"And where exactly are we?"

"Someplace familiar to you, I expect," he said with a slight smirk. "The Forest of Dean."

_Of course. I can't seem to escape the forest. _She sighed heavily. _At least it's not a tent._

"How can I trust you? This?"

The smirk vanished from his face and he appeared to ponder the question before replying. "That is the million-Galleon question, is it not? I do not blame you for not taking me at my word. That would be stupid, and though you may be many things, stupid is certainly not one of them. But Veritaserum is also out of the question, because it was I who brewed all of the potions in this house. Therefore, how can you trust that I haven't compromised it in some way?

"I would offer to show you my memories, but again, you know my skills with Legilimency. I have been able to fool the Dark Lord himself for more years than you've been alive, which means I could show you anything I want you to see, and you would never be able to tell the difference between lies and reality."

Her eyes widened in recognition of the words uttered by Lucius Malfoy in the Department of Mysteries so many years ago. _How can he know that?_

"Let us start with this," he said before sliding a narrow box across the table toward her.

Still unsure what to make of him, she hesitated in opening the box. He promptly rolled his eyes, reached a pale hand across the table and opened the box for her. _Wands! There must be a dozen of them!_

"I am no Ollivander, but I suspect there is a wand in that box that will fit you well enough for now. And while you try them out, tell me what happened to your wand."

She reached for the first wand, a beautiful rowan wand with runes engraved along its handle. She swished it experimentally, but it felt all wrong … squishy, somehow, as if the magic were somehow being forced through gel.

The second wand, made of ash, was better, and she conjured some tiny yellow canaries, which flew around the room while she spoke. "Snatchers. They found me near the edge of the forest, just before I met up with … with you."

The birds suddenly squawked and disappeared in a poof of feathers, so she picked up another wand – holly – and tried to transfigure her empty soup bowl into a teacup. It turned into a tea tin instead. "Scabior was the leader's name. He had two others with him. It was the same bunch that picked us up in this very forest two years ago and sent us on a little vacation to Malfoy Manor."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "And how did you escape them without a wand?"

"I can thank Vol- You Know Who for that. He called them back just as things got really tense. I was lucky. Well, except for this," she said, pointing to the cut on her forehead. She decided leave out the bit about the Centaur for now.

Several more wands were tried and rejected in silence before she selected a rich mahogany wand, carved with interlocking circles in a repeating pattern from handle to tip. Gold sparks shot out the end as soon as she picked it up, causing her to smile slightly. "This one will do nicely, I think."

She turned the wand on her robes, which shortened and tightened into a perfect fit. Aiming at her head, she dried her hair, which fluffed up and nearly tripled in volume. Pressing her hands to her hair, she tried to flatten it some, embarrassed by the way Snape's eyes widened and his lips quirked up in a half smirk. "Sorry. It never really behaves without a good bit of work."

Looking at the assortment of wands left on the table, she decided to change the subject, "Where did you get these wands?"

"Here and there," he said evasively, earning him a raised eyebrow. Refusing to elaborate, he instead sat back in his chair a bit. "Now, I have it on good authority that you are in possession of a portrait, one Phineas Nigellus Black, former headmaster of Hogwarts. Is this correct?"

Surprised once again at the information he possessed, she simply nodded.

"If you would, please extract him from that clever little bag of yours, and I will provide proof of where my loyalties lie."

_The portrait! Of course! How could I have been so stupid? Black could have overheard anything we said while we were on the run and reported it right back to Snape! The dirty little Slytherin never once said anything about Snape being on our side!_

She tried to hide her irritation before opening the bag, reaching in up to her armpit and extracting a portrait the size of a deck of Exploding Snap. She set it on the table, and resized it with a tap of her new wand. It was empty.

"It appears Headmaster Black is away from his portrait for the moment," she said.

"How fortunate for us that I am the current headmaster." He reached his hand, which bore the headmaster's ring, toward the frame. Placing it on the corner, he closed his eyes and concentrated. Before long, the sour-faced Black shuffled into view.

"What is the meaning of this, Severus?" Black asked. "Where is the girl? This is her frame. How did you get it? Is she dead?"

"Your concern for my welfare is touching," Hermione said in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

"There you are. And don't be silly, girl. I do not care either way, of course. I am merely suspicious of anything that is not as it should be. And so I ask, are you quite well?"

"As well as can be expected, I suppose."

"And you, Severus? Tell me what is happening. All of the portraits are very concerned about the state of Hogwarts. We have not seen you in two days, and there has been quite a disturbance in the wards and halls of the castle. We have been under attack, and now the school is overrun with Dark wizards!"

"I am aware. It is time, Phineas. Would you please invite Albus into your frame for a moment?" Snape said.

The painted man's mouth dropped open in shock. "It … it's time? Do you mean to say that … you've retreated to the cottage? With Miss Granger? Oh, this is very bad. Very bad indeed."

"I would agree. Time is of the essence, so if you will …"

"Of course, of course." Black practically ran out of his frame.

Hermione's eyes met Snape's in shock, but she didn't say anything. She couldn't. _Is it possible that we've all been wrong about him for all these years? I guess it's time to find out._

**A/N: **_We've reached a turning point in this story. Next chapter will show whether Hermione can be convinced to trust Snape. We'll find out more about where things stand ... and what might come next. Thanks for sticking with me!_


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **_I apologize for the delay in updating this story. Real life and real writing deadlines interfered for a time. But I expect to update more regularly for the foreseeable future. Thank you for all of the lovely reviews so far. They mean a great deal to me as they are the only feedback I get from this solitary project. Please let me know what you think of this new chapter._

Albus Dumbledore rushed into the portrait frame with wild eyes, his usual twinkle gone and his face showing panic rather than his usual serenity.

"Severus, my dear boy!" he said in a voice choked with emotion. "Phineas said you've gone to the safe house. What has happened? Have you been discovered?"

"No, Albus. My cover is safe for the moment, and I will tell you everything in time. However, I have someone here with whom you should speak. We need to allay a few concerns over my loyalty before we proceed."

The wizened old portrait turned his gaze from Snape and sought out the other occupant of the room. "Miss Granger, how entirely unexpected to see you. You are a welcome sight, to be sure, but if you are here with Severus, then that means things are grave, indeed."

"Oh Professor," Hermione replied, with tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat. "I never thought I'd see you again, not since … well, you know." Her eyes slid to Severus briefly before returning to the portrait. "I don't know what to think, being here under these circumstances. Professor Snape had told me several things, but I …"

"You don't trust him."

She nodded, again eyeing Snape with no small amount of trepidation. He returned her gaze with a frank, open look that she would never have expected see from the man. Turning back to the portrait, she decided to start with the biggest question in her mind.

"He said you asked him to kill you, that he's always been on the side of the Order. How can that be?"

"Ah, I see. Well, let me settle that question. I was cursed to suffer a slow and painful death because of a lapse in judgment. My own, that is. You remember the state of my hand in the last few months of my life? That was the work of the Gaunt ring, which I foolishly put on in an attempt to tap its power for good. I did not fully understand the dark magic of a Horcrux, you see. And so began a desperate race to figure out what Tom Riddle was up to and destroy him before I myself was destroyed.

"When it became clear that I would lose that race quite a bit sooner than I would have liked, either at the hands of Draco Malfoy or in the throes of the curse, I begged Severus to intervene, to end my torment and continue as he had for many years … a spy for the Order, working to bring Riddle down from the inside, even as you worked to destroy him from the outside. I regret a great many things, Miss Granger. But I do not regret my decision to entrust Severus with this task. You must understand."

Hermione sat back in her chair, mouth slightly open in shock. _He asked Snape to _kill_ him? To sacrifice his position within the Order and bring the malice of the Light down on his shoulders? And then to follow that with three years and counting of playing the part of Death Eater and evil headmaster on a full-time basis? My god, what a tragedy!_

She glanced once again at Snape. His mask of calm had slipped a bit with the retelling of the story, and he looked almost haunted by the weight of his deeds, but then his eyes snapped up to hers and he straightened in his chair. A familiar scowl set in as if he were daring her to pass judgment on him.

"Alright," she said, looking back at Dumbledore with narrowed eyes. "Suppose I believe you. That doesn't exactly answer the rest of my questions. What is this about Harry being an accidental Horcrux? Professor Snape said his death was necessary. Why? And why didn't you ever tell us?"

"That, Miss Granger, is in many ways a far more difficult tale to tell. You see, I couldn't tell you three at first because I wasn't entirely sure myself, at least for a time. It always puzzled me how Harry seemed to have a mental connection to Riddle. The pieces of that puzzle fell into place once I realized not only that Riddle had made several Horcruxes but also under what circumstances those objects could be made. From there, it became so clear to me that it was almost shocking none of us had figured it out sooner. Harry was indeed a Horcrux, and he would have to die before Riddle could be made mortal once again. It was imperative, but only after the other Horcruxes had been found and destroyed. He was to be our trump card. Yet still I said nothing. Can you imagine imparting that knowledge to a teenage wizard? Who would blame him if he ran away to spare his own life? No, better that he continue on his course as defined by the prophecy."

At this, his eyes widened and he turned once again to Severus. "And what of Harry, Severus? What of the Horcruxes? Please, I must know what has happened."

The dark-haired wizard glanced at Hermione briefly before speaking. Her eyes were filled with tears and her lower lip quivered dangerously at the memory of her friend's demise. "It is done. He played his role well, in the end. All of the Horcruxes have been destroyed. The Dark Lord is mortal once more," he said. "For now, at least. He knows, Albus. Potter showed him his memories at the very last moment. He knows, but he thinks he has neutralized every threat, so for the time being, he feels safe."

The portrait's figure slumped into a chair within the frame, as if he were physically unable to continue standing under the weight of that knowledge. For a moment, nothing could be heard save Hermione's sniffles, and a subsequent rustle of cloth as Snape extracted a handkerchief and passed it to Hermione in irritation.

Finally, Dumbledore regained his ability to speak. "Has he? Neutralized every threat, that is? What of the others?"

Seemingly unable to meet the portrait's gaze, Snape studied his long fingers, moving them restlessly as he spoke. "They are all gone, Albus. They were unprepared, outnumbered. They did not stand a chance against his forces during this final battle."

A strangled gasp emanated from the frame. "Gone? All of them?"

"To the last, as far as I can tell."

"But it's not possible! Minerva? Filius? Arthur? Surely not the students …"

"Yes, Albus, and many, many more! Shall I name them one by one and describe their injuries to you as well?" Snape huffed loudly. "I saw it all and did nothing to stop it. Not for Potter, not for Weasley, not for Minerva … none of them. You will be happy to know that, even in that hell, I was and ever am your faithful servant!" At that, he pushed back his chair abruptly, stood and stalked to the kitchen sink, where he braced his hands on the counter and hung his head in defeat.

Hermione gasped at the venom in Snape's voice. She had never heard anyone speak so bluntly to the headmaster. A quick glance showed Dumbledore to be nearly overcome with grief and shock at the news, though he didn't seem particularly troubled by Snape's behavior, suggesting that they'd been through such matters before. "The Order, gone!" he said, while clutching his beard. "Merlin help us!"

"Merlin cannot help us – or them – now," Snape said in resignation. "What is done is done, and we haven't time to wallow in grief or self-pity. There are too many other issues to hand. Besides, the Order is not gone, not entirely." At this, he turned away from the sink and fixed his gaze on Hermione. "There are two of us left, aren't there, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, well, about that, Professor Snape … why exactly am I here?"

"Would you prefer I had left you to your own devices?" he asked, incredulous that she would question him. "I'm sure Jugson had nothing but noble intentions where you are concerned."

"You know what I meant," she snapped. "Why _me_? You've never shown any concern for me, and in fact, I would have bet money that you didn't care whether I lived or died."

"Oh?" he said, eyes flashing in anger. "If that is true, then why on earth would I have saved you from a full-blown werewolf that night in the forest? Why would I have alerted the Order when you went haring off to the Department of Mysteries? Why would I have made sure you had supplies, information and, oh yes, the sword of Godric bloody Griffyndor so you could survive long enough to destroy Hocruxes? I _care _inasmuch as I want this over with, and for whatever reason, you seem to be one of the few people with enough intelligence to make any headway at all, directly or indirectly, against the Dark Lord."

"You … you did all that? _You're_ the one who left those supplies? We would have died of starvation, illness or injury several times over without them! And the sword … I just … I didn't …" She tapered off, overcome with the knowledge that he had been looking out for them all along.

"You didn't know. Which is exactly as I intended it. And yes, I did it simply because it had to be done. It is the same reason I saved your hide today. When I heard you were still alive, I stayed and saved you because it had to be done." He paused for a moment, looking like he had swallowed something foul, before continuing. "I need your help, Granger, much as it pains me to admit it."

The words of the Centaur echoed through Hermione's mind. '_There is one who will conquer Evil with the help of another. Dark and Light will heal our world. The enemy and the hero will join their power.' _Could it be this is what he meant? That she and Snape were to partner together to defeat Voldemort?

Before she could speak, they heard a gentle cough coming from the portrait and turned to see Dumbledore looking between the two with a thoughtful gaze. "I wonder if I might ask a few questions of my own."

"Of course," said Snape before regaining his seat at the table.

"Your cover, Severus. It is intact still, correct?"

Snape nodded.

"Very good. See that it remains so, at least for now. And what does Riddle know of Miss Granger's fate?"

"He believes her to be dead. In fact, he has seen proof."

"Proof?" said Hermione with a gasp. "How?"

"I have you to thank for that, Miss Granger. Perhaps you recall a little incident involving Polyjuice Potion and a cat hair some years ago?"

She blushed and nodded, remembering the shame of stealing from his potion stores and the embarrassment of turning into the wizarding equivalent of Catwoman for several weeks.

"It was I who brewed the antidote for your rather curious condition," he continued. "It took some time to work it out, as you recall. While researching possible antidotes, it occurred to me that if a potion could turn a human into an animal, or animal-like state, for an extended period of time, perhaps the reverse could also be true. From there, it was a relatively simple task to create a long-lasting Polyjuice variant to give the desired effects. I have successfully used it a few times to produce a corpse where none existed, including today. A temporal Portkey, a few of your hairs, an unsuspecting rabbit and some rather complicated magic, and suddenly I found myself in possession of one spectacularly bloody and quite dead Hermione Granger. Your body was burned along with the others before our very eyes. The Dark Lord and the others are none the wiser."

"Unbelievable. You're like some kind of magical MacGyver. Wait, a temporal Portkey? What is that?"

"Simply a Portkey that creates a minor shift in the space-time continuum, much like a Time-Turner. It allows me to leave any location and point in time for up to five minutes and return to precisely the same location and point in time with barely a ripple in the air. Albus and I designed it as another failsafe, just in case things ever went pear-shaped."

Her eyes went wide with understanding. "The button on your trousers."

"Indeed."

Hermione once again sat back in her chair, completely overwhelmed by everything she had learned. She didn't know what to say and so was thankful when Snape turned his attention back to Dumbledore.

"What has happened at the castle since I left, Albus?"

"We don't really know. You are aware that Death Eaters are now occupying Hogwarts, of course. It seems that Riddle has become paranoid of the portraits and has sent his followers to destroy as many as they can get their hands on … or wands, as the case may be. As such, we are no longer able to monitor the halls. Dilys only just made it back to her frame in the headmaster's office. She appears to be missing the back of her robes, but it's hard to say for sure because she won't allow anyone to have a look. We lost Headmaster Dippet, unfortunately; he was caught out whilst consoling the Fat Lady. So far, however, the rest of us are safe in the office. It seems the castle won't let Riddle or his minions inside."

Snape smirked. "That is good. I paid a price for that bit of treason, but I am glad the castle defends us still. It is tragic, though, about the portraits. How can we know what the Dark Lord and his associates are up to if you cannot leave the office?" He pondered for a moment, then asked, "What about your other portrait? The one at the Ministry?"

"The Ministry has already been infiltrated. My portrait there has been destroyed, as have any others hung there. The portraits at St. Mungo's have suffered the same fate. Everyone else who has a copy says they're located in private lodgings, many of which have been destroyed or are no longer occupied. In fact, you're holding the only other copy of Phineas's portrait, which as you know used to hang in Number 12, Grimmauld Place. So for now this is all we have. I'm afraid I can't be of much assistance to you on this end, Severus."

"It cannot be helped," he replied, though his brow was deeply furrowed with concern. "No matter. I will be back to the castle soon enough, after I have 'rested' and 'celebrated,' as is my reward for 'services rendered at the right hand of the Dark Lord.'"

"How long do you have?"

"A couple of days. Maybe three. I will not know until he calls me."

"Well then, I'll leave you to rest. Let's plan to meet again soon. Well done, my boy. And you as well, Miss Granger." With a final nod of his head and a slight twinkle to his eye that may or may not have been a tear, Albus Dumbledore walked out of the frame, leaving it empty once more.

/

Severus let out a brief sigh (of relief or dread, he wasn't quite sure) before turning once again to the young woman currently sitting at his kitchen table. She looked back at him with an expression that seemed to reflect his own feelings – haggard, anxious and somewhat fearful of what lay ahead.

They eyed each other warily. Severus could tell she was itching to speak but it was clear she didn't quite know what to say. Albus had left the frame with the idea that everything had been settled, but had it? Severus wasn't so sure. There was still the not-so-small matter of whether Granger would be able to trust him enough to stay and help. And then, of course, there was the issue of what, exactly, she would help him do. Every possible answer to that question led to a thousand more questions, none of which he had any ability or energy to answer at present.

The moment wound tighter and tighter with tension, threatening to snap at any second, and Severus waited, knowing that everything – his fate, her fate, the fate of the entire wizarding world – hung in the balance. _Does she even know what responsibility rests on her shoulders at this moment?_

Finally, she spoke, but it wasn't at all what he expected to hear.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking away from him.

"What?"

"I'm sorry. For doubting you. For working against you. For not seeing what you were doing for us. I apologize."

Had he not had more experience hiding his emotions, his surprise would surely have registered on his face. But the only signs of his shock were that his eyes widened ever so slightly and a muscle jumped in his jaw as he swallowed hard.

"It is nothing, Miss Granger," he finally replied in a low voice. "You only did what would be expected of you given the circumstances."

She looked up at him, her eyes once again filled with tears and something more … genuine remorse and perhaps even a small amount of sympathy. "Perhaps," she said. "Nevertheless, I was wrong. I am truly sorry."

He cleared his throat, unnerved by this unexpected turn of events. "As I said, it is nothing to trouble yourself over, not now."

"Fair enough," she replied, wiping her eyes once again with his handkerchief. "Well, since we are to be colleagues, of a sort, I guess we better get started, hadn't we?"

Mentally, he nearly sagged with relief, although outwardly all that happened was that he sat back a bit more in his chair. "I suppose we should," he replied. "But first, there are a few things we need to sort out, and I, for one, would very much like a cup of tea. You?"

"Please."

"Very well. I will make a pot while you move to the lounge. It will be more comfortable there."

She nodded and quickly moved to the other room while he busied himself with the tea, adding a few special ingredients along the way. It took just a few minutes to brew, but they were precious minutes in which he collected his thoughts about how to proceed. Clearly they wouldn't settle everything tonight, but there were a few topics that needed to be discussed before bed.

He loaded up the tray and walked into the lounge, only to see Hermione peeking under her robes at her injured left shoulder. Putting the tea table to good use, he set down the tray and looked at her. "I forgot that you had been hexed. Do you need help treating it?"

"Oh, it's nothing a little Burn Paste won't manage. I have some in my bag. I'll just fetch it lat—"

"No. Anything you have is likely to be out of date. Besides, you have more than a burn to deal with," he said, indicating the cut above her brow. With a swish of his wand, the potions cabinet at the far end of the room opened. "Everything in this house is as fresh as the day we stocked it, thanks to a series of stasis charms," he explained, before snatching two jars out of the air.

"Here is the Burn Paste, and this is a salve for your forehead. I apologize for not attending to your wounds earlier. We should have treated them hours ago. The risk of infection increases over time, as you know. However, both preparations are very effective if properly applied."

She nodded, taking the jars before saying a surprised, "Thank you." Opening the smaller jar, she scooped out some salve and tried to spread it on the cut on her forehead, but without a mirror she only got half of the wound. Severus watched for a moment, then reached over, dipped his finger in the tub and stretched his hand toward her to help.

She automatically flinched away from his hand, and they both froze for a moment, she in fear and he in caution. Realizing her error, she murmured an embarrassed apology and slowly leaned toward his hand once more. When he was sure she was okay, he reached forward and gently smoothed the cream across the cut, watching in fascination as her porcelain skin knit itself back together flawlessly. _The magic of a properly brewed potion never ceases to amaze me,_ he thought.

The moment passed, and he pulled his hand away and sat on the sofa beside her. "May I see it?" he asked, gesturing to her wounded shoulder. Once again, she nodded, and began unbuttoning the top of her robe. She turned away from him and lowered the robe enough to expose the burn, wincing as the fabric brushed past the raw skin.

"That's rather nasty," he said. "Looks like Nott's work. He favors burning hexes such as this."

She turned and raised an eyebrow at him before looking back toward her shoulder. He tugged the fabric a bit lower to see the entire wound. There was no way she could have treated it herself, given the way it streaked toward the middle of her upper back. With practiced ease, he began applying the paste to the wound, pointedly ignoring her hisses and whimpers of pain.

"I'm sure you are aware healing a wound of this severity will require several applications of paste. However, there is a fully stocked potions cabinet as well as a small potions laboratory with enough fresh ingredients to make a variety of basic first aid and long-term healing potions. The larder is similarly stocked with basic food supplies."

He massaged the last of the paste into the wound. Already it looked far better than it had, and Granger was noticeably more comfortable. She smiled at him in thanks before covering herself back up with the robe. Running a quick diagnostic charm, he saw that aside from malnutrition and exhaustion, she was in decent health, with no other current injuries.

"For now, the only challenge we will face here is that this cottage was intended as a temporary safe house for one, not a long-term hideaway for two," he continued. "That means our supplies will run out sooner rather than later, but we should be fine for a couple of weeks. By then, I hope, we will have a plan."

"A plan," she murmured, before turning to face him again. "Professor, do you have any idea what to do? Where we should start?"

He sighed. "If I had a plan, Miss Granger, we would not be sitting here." He set about pouring the tea, noticing with satisfaction that she took hers with just a splash of cream, the same as he did. She took her cup gratefully and began to sip the hot liquid.

"Now then, as I told Albus, I have a couple of days in which to rest before I must return to the Dark Lord. I suggest we make the most of that time by taking stock of our resources and coming up with some possible courses of action. But first, it is well after midnight on what has probably been one of the most trying days of our lives. We should sleep now and regroup in the morning."

"Sleep? How can you sleep? We have so much to do! There must be something we can start tonight!"

"Unless you want to bring down the wizarding world with a foolish error caused by sleep deprivation, I suggest we stop for now. It is pointless to continue while we are exhausted."

"You can sleep. I'll plan."

"I don't think so, Granger."

"But I'm not tired! I'll sleep tomor—"

Just then, her jaw cracked with a huge yawn.

"Not tired? I see. At any rate, it is too late to protest. You have already had your dose of a sleeping draught, along with a dose of Dreamless Sleep, for good measure."

"_What?_" she shrieked, setting her teacup down with a clatter. "You drugged me _again_? You really have to stop doing that!"

"Forgive me. I simply did not believe you would go quietly. I was right, as I so often am."

"Well, I never—"

Another yawn interrupted her, and he smirked at her before standing and offering his hand. Reluctantly, she took it and he hauled her up off the couch, waiting for her to steady herself on wobbly feet.

"Please take the bedroom at the end of the hall. You'll find everything you need there."

She looked at him once again, this time with curiosity and a touch of awe. "Professor, I … well, thank you. For everything. I'll see you in the morning."

"Of course, Miss Granger. Sleep well."

He watched her walk toward the bedroom, staggering slightly in her fatigue. With one last look over her shoulder, she entered the room and closed the door.

Alone with his thoughts at last, Severus turned toward the fire and his untouched cup of tea. Settling back onto the sofa, he picked up his cup and drained it in a few swallows. He then transfigured a cushion into a pillow, lay down and covered himself with the blanket, which smelled slightly of herbs. _Rosemary for constancy and loyalty. Mint for warm feelings_, his fatigued brain automatically cataloged, just as he let loose an enormous yawn. _Rosemary and mint for Granger._

And with that final thought, he stared at the flames until his eyes drooped and he fell into a potion-induced slumber, blessedly free of dreams.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **_Reposting this chapter after an astute reader pointed out a rather significant error on my part. If you don't know what it was, then I'm sure not telling! :-) And please feel free to point out anything else that is blatantly wrong, now and in the future. I, of course, reserve the right to take some deliberate liberties with my story, but I don't want it to happen through carelessness!_

Hermione stretched, the kind of satisfying, bone-popping stretch that only comes after a deliciously solid and lengthy night's sleep. _I haven't had a true lie-in in ages. What a treat!_

She wiggled her toes and pulled the covers up a little higher. A smile crept over her face as she luxuriated in the warmth and comfort of the large bed, eyes still shut against the late-morning sunlight filtering in through the window.

_Wait, large bed? What window?_

Her eyes flew open to see an unfamiliar room. The realization that she wasn't lying on her camp bed in the tent sent her scrambling for her wand even as she sat bolt upright in the bed. Her heart racing, she quickly took stock of her surroundings, including a set of rumpled and unfamiliar robes, and before the fog of disorientation had entirely dissipated, she remembered.

"Oh god …" she whispered as memories and images of the previous few days came back to her. Tears sprang to her eyes as she pulled her knees into her chest, and she raised a shaky hand to her mouth to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape.

So much had happened since she arrived at Hogsmeade … _what was it now, two – maybe three – days ago?_ She went into battle with friends, confident in the victory that would come to the Order, and she left the battle totally defeated, completely broken and absolutely alone in the world.

_Except for Snape. _

That thought made her tears flow a little bit faster. The only person left on her side was someone who, up until yesterday, she would gladly have cursed or killed as a Death Eater, a traitor, a murderer and one of the cruelest people she had ever met.

But now? Now she owed him a life debt and a lifetime of apologies. And even though Dumbledore's portrait had been convincing as to where Snape's loyalties lay, she still wasn't sure she trusted him completely. He may have been saved her life and ensured her immediate health and safety, but she was certain that had nothing to do with compassion and everything to do with buying her trust and, therefore, her help. He had basically said as much.

But what else could she do except ally herself with him? There was, quite literally, no one else to turn to and nowhere else to go. Then there was the centaur's prophecy. As much as she hated Divination as a student, she couldn't deny that certain prophecies had a way of influencing certain events. Even Trelawny, fraud that she was, managed to alter the course of history with a single prophecy about Voldemort. _And look how that turned out,_ she thought bitterly. Now Hermione had her very own prophecy with which to define her future. _Bloody centaur._

Her tears finally subsided, and she closed her eyes and leaned her head back as memories continued to wash over her. After a few more minutes, she stirred. _Well, there's nothing for it but to get up and face whatever lies ahead._ _But first, the loo … and a toothbrush. _

Wiping away the remains of her tears and the last of her potion-induced fog, she climbed out of the bed, a basic four-post that matched the wardrobe and bedside table. She had been so tired the night before that as soon as the potions (_that bastard_) hit her system, she did nothing more than fall into bed fully dressed without even a cursory look around. She hadn't even thought to pick up her beaded bag.

That thought quickened her steps. She'd never been much more than arm's reach from that bag since the day she had charmed it, not even when she was being tortured at Malfoy Manor. Its contents had been critical to their survival and their mission, and it was like an extension of her body at this point. Without it, she felt extremely anxious, naked even.

Quietly opening the door to the bedroom, she held her breath and listened. Not a sound could be heard, so she slipped into the hallway and made her way to the lounge to fetch her bag. But before she could reach the tea table where it sat, she stopped abruptly. There before her on the sofa lay a sleeping Severus Snape.

_Of course. In a safe house built for one, where else would he sleep if I had the bedroom?_

She hadn't noticed him at first because the back of the sofa had hidden him from view. Now, though, she saw that he was stretched out flat on his back with one bare foot propped on the arm of the sofa and the other tucked under the blanket that was tangled about his lower body. His shirt had ridden up a bit in the night, showing a hint of a pale stomach bisected by a trail of fine black hair. One hand dangled off the edge of the cushion, not far from the table where his wand lay. The other rested on his chest. Black hair, quite a bit longer than she remembered him wearing it in the past, lay like an ink spatter across the pillow.

But it was his face that she found most curious. In his slumber, his face was completely relaxed, leaving his lips slightly parted. The crease that seemed a permanent fixture between his brows was gone, as was his familiar scowl. He looked peaceful, younger somehow. Less forbidding. Almost approachable.

_Careful, Hermione. Even rabid dogs look peaceful when they sleep. But they can still bite._

Shaking her head, she picked up her bag and made her way back to the bathroom. Ten minutes later, her hair was brushed back into a low braid, she was dressed in jeans and a simple blouse, and she felt and looked more like herself. It was time to face the day … and Severus Snape.

/

Severus woke with a start, wand instantly in hand and eyes quickly searching the room. It was a habit borne of years spent walking that razor-thin line between stealth and exposure. Seeing that everything was in order, he sagged back into the cushions and rubbed his eyes.

He hated sleeping draughts and Dreamless Sleep. They made him sleep far too soundly for his liking, and the loss of control felt extremely dangerous given his position as a double agent. It was the same reason he never drank to excess or slept more than a few hours at a time or a few inches from his wand. He simply couldn't afford to not have all his wits about him or be caught unaware.

But sometimes, even he needed the hours of uninterrupted, restorative sleep provided by a potion in order to recover from whatever ordeal he had recently survived. Knowing that he wouldn't be called again for a few days, that he was secure in an unplottable safe house and that he and Granger had arrived at a tentative truce gave him the peace of mind to take a sleeping draught, and already he could tell his body was thanking him. His mind felt more calm and his body much less fatigued, but he was still trying to shake off the lingering haze of sleep.

He could hear sounds in the kitchen, so he knew Granger was awake. Casting a quick Tempus Charm, he saw that it was nearly noon. With a final stretch, he sat up and used his wand to stoke the fire, which had died down to embers over night. June days were still chilly in this part of Britain, and the fire did much to warm the room and improve his mood.

There was a great deal to be done, and if he was going to be faced with a know-it-all Gryffindor who would undoubtedly ask difficult questions, he wanted a shower first.

With a quick flick of his wand, he Summoned a change of clothes from the bedroom closet and walked to the bathroom, snatching them out of midair as he passed. If he recalled correctly, the safe house had at least 10 days' worth of clothing, wizarding and Muggle, hanging at the ready. It was all men's clothing, however, so he fervently hoped Granger had some spares of her own and they wouldn't have to share. He supposed they could always transfigure something, but that would be tedious … and noticeable to certain eyes trained to look for disguises and falsehoods.

Twenty minutes later, a freshly showered, freshly shaven and much more awake Severus walked into the kitchen, where Granger was putting the finishing touches on a simple hot breakfast. She turned from the cooker just as he walked through the door, and she nearly dropped the pan of eggs in her shock.

"Professor! You scared me! I didn't know you were awake."

"I am sorry, Miss Granger. I did not know I was required to announce it. If you were more aware of your surroundings, you would have heard the shower running. And stop staring at me. If you have something to say, say it."

She at least had the grace to look chagrined. "I just never thought I'd see you looking so … casual."

He sighed. "You forget, Miss Granger, that I am a Half-Blood. I grew up wearing Muggle clothing. What, did you think I wore teacher robes 24 hours a day?"

"Well, no. I never gave a thought to what you wore," she said with some irritation. "It's just … strange to see you in jeans and a button-down, that's all. It's like seeing Professor McGonagall pushing a trolley at Tesco. It's unexpected. Wait, is that _plaid_?"

He didn't bother to reply and instead walked over to the cupboards to begin searching for a cup so he could pour some of the coffee he smelled brewing.

"Professor, I was wondering if—"

"Stop right there. I refuse to answer questions until I have had coffee and at least a bit of breakfast."

"I was simply asking if you would like rashers with your eggs! Honestly!"

After a fleeting moment of shame for being so tetchy, Severus muttered a quiet "yes, thank you." And with that, they sat down to a silent and decidedly tense breakfast. Severus tried to ignore the curious and slightly wary glances that Granger sent his way every so often.

Finally, after the last bit of egg yolk had been sopped up with the last crust of toast, Severus set the dishes to magically washing themselves in the sink. Another flick of his wand and both coffee cups refilled themselves, earning him an appreciative nod from Granger. A final twitch and a scroll of parchment, a quill and an inkwell made their way from the lounge to the table.

"Now then, Miss Granger, I expect you have many questions. I myself have a few. However, I think we can answer many of those questions by taking an inventory of our resources. Agreed?"

Another nod from Granger and he stuck the parchment to the wall and spelled the quill to record automatically as needed.

"Let us begin with secure locations. Even Secret-Kept, unplottable locations can be compromised, so we need alternatives. There is, of course, this house."

The quill scratched out an entry in a column entitled Secure Locations.

He continued, "There is my home at Spinner's End. While not entirely secure, it is highly warded and very few have access to it. However, you will not go there unless absolutely necessary, and only then if I deem it safe. There is my office, and _only_ my office, at Hogwarts, which seems to be secure for now. Of course, I can access the rest of Hogwarts – again, _for now_ – but you cannot … or, at least, should not."

He paused for a moment, deep in thought, before asking, "What do you know of Grimmauld Place?"

She furrowed her brow. "I haven't been back since breaking into the Ministry a few summers ago. When we attempted to Apparate back to the house, we were followed, which is how we ended up in the forest. I assume it was discovered by Death Eaters at that time, so we never risked a visit after that. I know that, to be safe, the Order used other locations after that and eventually designated a new headquarters. But I'm just not certain where things stand."

"And I have not heard either way. I would imagine it would have been brought to the Dark Lord's attention had it been infiltrated. Then again, I am not privy to all of his knowledge. Alright. Grimmauld Place should be considered a refuge of last resort."

She nodded, then said, "There is always my family home. I know it's not a magical residence, but it could still prove useful in an emergency."

He paled slightly. _Oh, Merlin. She doesn't know. _He took a sip of coffee to buy some time before answering.

"Miss Granger, when was the last time you were there?"

"It's been three years, but I warded it in such a way that it wouldn't suffer from neglect. It should be fine. But truth to tell, I haven't been back since I Obliviated my parents and sent them away for safety."

"You _what_?"

"Well, I suspected they might become targets of your … well, you know. So I modified their memories. They suddenly decided they'd like nothing more than to move to … to another place," she said evasively, before dropping her head and her voice. "They no longer know I exist."

Severus was stunned. He knew the Dark Lord had been frustrated at his followers' inability to draw Granger out through her parents. They simply couldn't be found. But that didn't mean no one had tried. Certainly no one suspected Granger of being skilled enough, let alone emotionally strong enough, to irreversibly alter her own parents' memories and move them to safety. It was unreal, and for a moment he had no words.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "That was incredibly prescient of you. They were, in fact, high-level targets. The Dark Lord thought he could get to you, and thus Potter, through them, but when they didn't turn up after months of surveillance, he ordered the complete destruction of the home. It no longer stands."

Grangers jaw dropped in shock and her eyes filled with tears at the news. "It's all gone?" she whispered.

"Yes," he replied curtly. Then his eyes softened a touch. "Miss Granger, I truly regret being the one to bear this news."

He could tell that this was yet another blow that she was ill prepared to withstand, especially after recent events. Her shoulders started to shake as she put her hands over her face in anguish, yet aside from a few harsh breaths she made no sound.

In the awkward moments that followed, Severus looked anywhere but at the young woman in front of him. It was times like this that made him wish he had never heard the names Tom Riddle or Lord Voldemort. He knew that, in spite of his eventual regret and a decided shift in loyalties, his role as a Death Eater spy required him to commit heinous acts that resulted in scenes like this all over Britain. He had even been present at some of those scenes, with blood on his hands and full knowledge of exactly what had transpired … yet unable to explain or beg forgiveness as he played the role of upstanding wizard. Those were the nights sleep never came.

/

Embarrassed that she was falling apart once again in front of Snape, Hermione struggled to tamp down her emotions. But it was difficult, knowing that the house, which had become her symbol, her _hope_, of normalcy and a life after war, no longer existed, at least not in the form she remembered. _Are there even ruins to sift through?_ she wondered. _What about the old family photos, Grandmother's china, that ridiculous cuckoo clock Mum absolutely hated and Dad refused to part with? Oh, Mum and Dad … they would be devastated to know their home is ruined. At least they haven't been discovered._

She sagged a bit in relief at that last thought. After a time, she took a deep breath, wiped her eyes and lifted her head to look at Snape. He was looking toward the far wall, obviously incredibly uncomfortable and even somewhat concerned. _Wonders never cease._

"I'm sorry, Professor. I'll be alright, eventually."

His eyes snapped back to hers, his face quickly returning to a neutral expression. "If you are certain …"

"I am."

"Very well. What else should we list under secure locations? What about that tent you've been using?"

Hermione let out a bitter-sounding laugh. "The tent. Well, it's something, at least. I, for one, would be happy to never spend another night in it, but it's roomy enough and provides basic shelter. However, it's seen better days, as you can imagine after nearly full-time use for the past three years."

"Security?"

"We used a matrix of protective charms – Salvio Hexia, Repello Muggletum, Protego Totalum, Cave Inimicum, Muffliato. And we moved often, sometimes every night. We managed."

"That will work, especially if I also contribute a few charms. I think we should add it to the list, then. Where is it?"

"Here, in my bag."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Yes, your tiny, impractical, impenetrable and oh so mysterious beaded bag. I am curious to see what you have managed to fit in there. Undetectable Expansion Charm, I presume?"

Her eyes narrowed in response. She studied him for a moment, trying to determine whether she should share her most valuable assets with a man whom she still didn't know if she should trust completely. Her one consolation over the last few years had been that even if things went bad they would still have the bag, which meant that they could survive another day. Sharing it with him would change things.

But, if sharing resources meant they could possibly arrive at a plan to finish Voldemort, well then, sharing resources is what she would have to do. _In for a penny, in for a pound, Hermione._

"Right in one. Alright, I'll empty it so you can see what I have, but there's more here than you can imagine."

One eyebrow shot up and he looked at her with skepticism. "Is that so?"

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

Ten minutes later, the entire kitchen and lounge were covered in an assortment of resized items: the folded-up tent with all of its supplies, her school trunk with her personal belongings, a stack of close to four dozen books, myriad potions, a broad selection of Muggle and magical first aid supplies, a jumble of clothing, a large crate of non-perishable food, a wizarding wireless, three battered but serviceable broomsticks, a potions kit with a nesting set of all-purpose cauldrons, a few cloaks, piles of parchment and quills, and two tired-looking knapsacks, which Hermione placed reverently on the table and caressed lightly with her fingers before heaving a big sigh.

"And that's the lot. Well, except for some trash and minor odds and ends. It's been a while since it was completely emptied."

She turned to see Snape poking through her possessions. With each item that she had removed from her bag, Snape had looked more and more surprised, with an eyebrow that seemingly couldn't stay put above his eye. He had walked among the items as they were revealed, sorting things and murmuring occasionally so the quill could record the inventory.

He now came to the books and sifted through the stack. "My my, Miss Granger. You do have quite a collection of interesting things. Your library, for example. Several of these books belong to Hogwarts' restricted section. Surely you recall they were not to be removed from that area except by staff? And these others, they must be long past due by now."

His comment and chiding tone immediately put her on the defensive. "You can't be serious! I needed them! I was going to return them all, I swear. I just never dreamed that, three years on, I'd still be on the run."

"Interesting choices, nonetheless. I will add these to the library here," he said, waving his wand toward several bookcases lining the wall near a set of French doors and watching as the books flew through the air and filed themselves neatly into several empty slots. "You should know, however, that Madame Pince has gone spare looking for the culprit who stole them. Several students received detention merely for looking guilty in her presence. How does that make you feel?"

"I refuse to be shamed over this," she replied with a huff. "If I hadn't had those books, we'd still be sitting at Grimmauld Place and going mad trying to decipher a few doodles in a children's book."

He moved on to the broomsticks, inspecting them for damage. Finding none, he levitated them along with the cloaks to a closet near the front door. Pausing near her potions kit, he held several items up, looked at them with disgust and vanished everything.

"Hey! Those were my things!"

"Those _things_ were disasters waiting to happen. Every piece was hopelessly contaminated, and the cauldrons were worn nearly transparent. They were not designed for use over a campfire, you know. It is truly astounding that they have not melted or exploded before now. Besides, I have superior equipment in the lab here."

She just looked at him in shock, unable to verbalize the thoughts jumbled in her head. _Anyone else would be congratulating me on making the best of a bad situation and managing where others would have surely failed, and he's berating me for failing to follow basic lab procedures! _

Before she could gather her wits to say those very things, he had already moved on and was carefully inspecting the potions. No surprise, really; they were, after all, his area of expertise, and apparently he had made many of them, if what he said about helping her and the boys was true. He picked up a vial, uncorked it and sniffed before making a face and setting it aside with several others.

"Did you learn nothing in my class, Miss Granger?"

"What? Of course I did," came her indignant reply. "I'll have you know that if you hadn't been so biased toward Slytherin, I would have had the highest grade in your class every single year.

"Then why have you been holding on to expired potions? This one, in particular, has gone off and would have caused extreme intestinal distress had you ingested it. Several others, while not exactly dangerous, are so old as to no longer be effective. You would have been better off treating yourself with water."

"Well, I'm sorry, Exalted Potions Master," she retorted in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "Not all of us have access to complete potions laboratories and fully stocked supply closets. And it's not as though I could place an owl order to replenish our stock of potions or ingredients. Our mysterious care packages didn't always have what we needed, either, I'll have you know, so I had to make do, which I did quite well. Besides, I figured an expired potion was better than no potion, given the circumstances!"

"Consider yourself lucky, then, that you have me now," he replied with a smirk, just before banishing the entire lot and ignoring her gasp of shock. "You should also feel lucky you did not end up pregnant." Giving her a disdainful once over, he continued, "On second thought, perhaps you should check."

Her eyes narrowed. "And what, exactly, are you insinuating?"

"Your supply of contraceptive potion is long since expired, yet it is clear you have been using it. So, who was it? Weasley or Potter?" Then with a wicked smirk, he added, "Or both, perhaps?"

Her anger bubbled up hot and fast, erupting in a shriek of rage. "It is none of your damn business, Snape! I refuse to discuss my personal life and reproductive health, and I absolutely will _not_ talk about Harry and Ron with _you_!"

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," he said with a low chuckle, only to be met with splutters of incoherent rage. "Oh come now, Granger, stop acting the prude. It is only sex."

She swiped angry tears from her eyes before spitting out, "Stop it! You have no right to speak to me that way! No right! But then why should I have expected anything more from you? You've always been a complete arse, and I suppose you always will be."

She could feel herself losing control of her emotions. Outside of family, Harry and Ron were the two people she loved the most. While their relationships had been mostly platonic, there were times when the stress of war and life on the run was just too much. The occasional lovemaking had been their only means of comfort and outlet for difficult emotions. There was no way she would allow Snape to turn that into something tawdry, not now when her grief from their deaths was so fresh and raw.

Turning toward her trunk with a shaky breath, she shrank it and dropped it into her pocket. "You can deal with this mess for now. I'm going to the bedroom to unpack my trunk. Come find me when you can behave like a civilized wizard instead of a … a …"

"A what? A Death Eater, Granger? A greasy git? The bat of the dungeons? Take your pick; it does not matter to me. Really, I thought you knew me."

"Unfortunately, I do, but I had hoped, based on your behavior over the past 24 hours, that perhaps you had found your moral center during a time of extreme crisis. Oh, how wrong I was!"

And with that, she turned to leave the room. "Pregnant, indeed. I can't believe that stupid centaur thought we could work together," she muttered under her breath.

Suddenly, a pale hand grabbed her upper arm and spun her around. She found her self face-to-face with an infuriated looking Severus Snape.

"What centaur, Granger?" he uttered in a low, menacing voice.

_Oh shite. I must have said that out loud. _

"Have you had a run-in with a centaur? When?"

When she didn't reply, he continued. "I find it curious that you would not have mentioned such an important thing to me before now. As you know, Granger, centaurs are not exactly known for indulging in idle chitchat. Now, you _will_ tell me what he said."

Hermione had not intended on sharing that particular bit of information just yet. She wasn't sure why, but she thought it better to keep that incident confidential, for now anyway. She raised her chin defiantly. "I don't know what you're on about."

"You are a terrible liar."

"I'm not lying!"

"Last chance, Granger," he said with a warning in his voice.

She said nothing. _Surely he wouldn't stoop so low as to_—

"Have it your way. _Legilimens!"_

**A/N: **_Thank you for reading. Please don't make me beg for reviews. It's unseemly._


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I apologize for the delay in updating. I never expected it would take me more than two months to return to this project. It was a busy summer, but I also just didn't know the best way to move our beloved characters forward in their journey. This is more of a transition chapter than anything else, but I felt it was necessary to get to the next bit of action. Anyway, here is the next installment for your reading pleasure.**

As soon as the spell was uttered, whiskey-colored eyes locked with eyes the color of midnight and Hermione let out a small gasp. Severus could feel her body sag under the assault on her mind, and her hands clutched his shirt in an effort to keep her body upright. Wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her still, he dove into her mind and began searching for her meeting with the centaur.

As every Legilimens knows, an untrained mind under forceful attack will automatically bring forth the very memories its owner most wishes to hide. After all, one can hardly say, "Don't think about what you had for lunch" without automatically thinking about that very thing. But Severus was surprised to discover she was actively attempting to steer him away from the memory he wanted to see. He didn't know she had studied Occlumency, unless … _Of course. Potter. She must have studied up on it in order to help Potter. _For a moment, he felt a grudging respect for the girl. It had taken him years of working with a master of the craft to be able to get that far, and she had done it entirely on her own.

Images swirled around him in the mists of her mind. _Benign memories of classes at Hogwarts. Late nights on watch around a campfire. Christmas morning the year she got her first bicycle. Shopping for a gown for the Yule Ball with a woman he could only assume was her mother. There! An image from the battle!_

He started following that thread, hoping it would lead him to the scene he needed to see, but he could feel her panic level rise. Other memories kept getting in the way, almost as though she were throwing obstacles in his path. _Packing and repacking her beaded bag in the attic of the Burrow in preparation for their years on the run. Recovering from a dark curse in the Hospital Wing. Stealing ingredients from his stores. Brewing Polyjuice Potion in the girls' lavatory. Kissing Viktor Krum. Heated glances over a meager dinner in the forest. Tangled limbs and pleasure and—_

Suddenly he found himself in a long hallway filled with doors that were slamming in quick succession as memories were hidden from sight. _Ah, _he thought. _Finally got enough control to put up some proper defenses, did we?_

He stopped his offensive to observe how she organized her mind. _Chronological order. A rookie mistake, _he thought with a childhood memories were the first to be locked up, then her years spent in Muggle primary school, being ostracized for her intelligence and social awkwardness. Her first shopping trip to Diagon Alley, six years of classes, adolescent drama and misadventures at Hogwarts, three very tough years on the run hunting Horcruxes, the battle at Hogwarts, and there, at the end of the long hall … a door with extra locks for her most private memories. With a flick of a tail, the centaur slipped through that door, which closed with a resounding echo. There was nothing left but complete stillness and a silence that was deafening in its absoluteness.

He moved along the hallway with purpose, now that he knew exactly where to go. There was no need to break through the other doors; those memories held no interest for him. He wanted to get in, get the Centaur memories, and get out.

Approaching the door, Severus used Legilimency to trace the mental defenses that Granger had erected to shield her memories. There was always a weakness – an Achilles' heel, of sorts – if one had the ability and the patience to find it. Thankfully, he had both in abundance. Time, however, was the element in short supply, as he knew the connection could not last forever.

He worked quickly yet methodically to study every square inch of the door and the wall surrounding it. It was of medieval design – thick wood studded with iron bands and nails. Several locks lined the edge of the door, and seemingly for good measure, a heavy chain and padlock hung from a thick hasp in the door to a ring in the adjoining wall. It seemed nearly impenetrable. He stood still for a moment, studying the puzzle before him, and then started his search again.

This time, instead of inspecting the obvious – the locks and iron reinforcements – he focused on the rest of the door – the wood and the jambs. In a matter of moments, he found the fatal flaw in her design. The door hung on a simple and incredibly weak pivot hinge.

He almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. She had spent so much mental energy constructing the imposing structure and deterring locks that she failed to see to the security of the rest of the door. Mentally conjuring a lever, he wedged it under the door near the jamb and popped the entire thing off the hinge with practically no effort at all. _ Archimedes would be proud_, he thought wryly as he shoved the door open.

It was bedlam inside as Granger struggled to respond to the attack, but she was clearly no match for a master Legilimens. Ignoring all the other memories, he quickly found himself immersed in the one he wanted most. He felt his anger rise as he saw the Snatchers harass, then bind, the witch. _I will deal with them later_, he vowed.

And there it was – the centaur leaning over Granger and speaking intently to her. Straining to hear, he leaned forward. _"__The war between wizards will not end at dawn. However, there is one who will conquer Evil with the help of another. Dark and Light will heal our world. The enemy and the hero will join their power. The stars have foretold it." _

His brow furrowed as he dissected that bit. _There is hope yet. But Potter is dead. So who is this hero? And who is the enemy?_

It seemed Granger was thinking along the same lines, because the centaur continued, _"We know the prophecy of which you speak. We follow the destinies of wizards, for often those destinies are intertwined with our own. … Daughter of man, blessed with great power, do not be afraid. There is much pain ahead, but there is one who can help. Open your mind, and your path will become clear."_

The memory dissolved before he could think on it further, and he found himself quite unexpectedly in a dimly lit room, someplace entirely unfamiliar to him. Turning quickly to survey his surroundings, he was stunned to see Granger, Potter and Weasley obviously sharing a less-than-platonic moment on what appeared to be a hotel bed. Just as Potter leaned in from behind to kiss Granger's neck while Weasley began to unbutton her shirt, Severus felt a sharp pain on his cheek and he was tossed out of the memory and back into the present.

He saw a livid Hermione Granger rearing back to slap him a second time. With reflexes honed through decades living and working as a spy, he grabbed her wrist and smoothly pushed her backward until her body met the wall with a slight thud. They simply stared at each other for a moment, eyes wide and nostrils flared as they struggled to catch their breath from the intense emotions and sheer magical effort expended in the previous moments.

"I have been practicing Legilimency since before you were born. You cannot hope to defend against me, Granger," he finally ground out. "Next time, show me what I need to know so I do not have to go looking for it. Who knows what I'll see next?"

"Next time, you can go to hell!" she snarled. With that, she wrenched her arm from his grip, ducked under his other arm and stalked down the hall to her room, slamming the door behind her.

He stood for a moment in shock, then turned and slammed a fist into the wall. "Fuck!" he cursed, before hanging his head in frustration and defeat. His mind was reeling from the images he saw in her head. _Another goddamned prophecy! And she thinks it involves me. Absurd!_

But no sooner had that thought crossed his mind than he realized it wasn't so absurd after all. Who else was there from the Light besides the two of them? And until yesterday, Granger _had_ seen him as an enemy. Hell, he'd worked hard to ensure it! A bitter laugh nearly escaped his throat. _Do not be a fool – she still sees you as an enemy. Needling her about her relationships just to get a reaction and then forcefully invading her mind will not help to change that perception._

A pang of regret over his actions lanced through his gut, making him feel slightly uncomfortable. But that pang was quickly replaced by a wave of fear, grief, isolation and hopelessness. It was nearly overwhelming, but he quickly took control of his emotions and shoved them to the background. There was much to consider, and he needed his wits about him. Knowing it would be a while before Granger calmed down enough to speak about the situation rationally, Severus decided to do what he always did when he needed to think – brew. He turned on his heel and retreated to the cottage's potions lab to create a salve to soothe his throbbing knuckles. The door slammed shut in his wake.

/

_I slapped Professor Snape. I slapped a Death Eater. I slapped Snape AND I told him to go to hell! Merlin, what have I done?_

Hermione paced back and forth in the small room, hands clutching her thick hair and panic marring her features. She winced as she heard him lose control with an expletive and what sounded like a fist connecting with a wall, followed by a slamming door. _He's not just mad, he's furious. Oh, god, he's going to kill me! He'll kill me but it will be a slow, bloody, agonizing death, and he'll enjoy every single minute of it! _

She stopped pacing and leaned against the door for a moment before sliding down to rest on the floor, knees up and head buried in her hands. Amidst her panic, as well as her shame over him seeing her most private memories of Ron and Harry, she felt a thin tendril of logic thread its way into her head._ Be reasonable, Hermione! He may be mad, but he won't kill you. You're the only one left of the Order. The centaur gave you the prophecy, which means the prophecy depends on you. And if Snape meant it when he said he wants to end Voldemort, then he must help you fulfill the prophecy. You will have to find a way to work together. There's no other choice._

Not for the first time in the past 48 hours, Hermione rehashed everything that had happened since the moment they set foot in Hogsmeade. Her grief, though still raw, was starting to make way for the more urgent issues to hand – namely, the rather precarious position both she and Snape found themselves in at the moment. The world as they knew it had ended yesterday. All of their allies, and many of their loved ones, were dead. They had been forced together with no other options, one presumed dead by her enemies, the other treading dangerously as a spy amidst the ranks of the most evil wizard of all time. They could barely stand to be in the same room, yet they were supposed to work together to save the wizarding world. What could possibly go wrong?

_Everything, that's what_, she thought ruefully. _Then again, I am the brightest witch of my age, or so they say, and my magic is powerful. Even Purebloods can't deny it. And while he may be a bastard, he's also incredibly intelligent and nearly unmatched in terms of sheer magical strength. We would make a good team … if we don't kill each other first._

That thought led her to consider their next steps. _Voldemort is mortal, and we must find a way to destroy him while he is at his weakest. But how? A potion? A spell? Physical force? Muggle warfare?_

Before she knew it, an hour had passed as she mentally catalogued the pros and cons of each option. No obvious solution presented itself, but one thing was clear: She and Snape would have to work together, without malice, to create a plan. She needed him, and he needed her. The only way that would work was if they had some clear ground rules.

With a deep sigh, Hermione hauled herself off the ground, smoothed her hair and clothing, and set out to find Snape.

/

Severus sat on a stool watching the salve simmer slowly, its surface still except for the occasional thick bubble burbling its way through the viscous solution. The preparation itself didn't take long, and it was such a simple potion that he could do it in his sleep if pressed. But it kept his hands busy for a few minutes and freed his mind to think on other things – namely, an evil wizard, a bushy-haired know-it-all and a meddling centaur that had enslaved him to yet another prophecy. To be fair, he had already committed to bringing down the Dark Lord, but he had wanted to do it on his terms, not because a man with a horse's ass said the stars had foretold it.

Not only that, but he also didn't know how he would manage to work with Granger. Granted, he was the one who had plucked her from the battle and saved her life with the sole purpose of helping him on his quest, but now it seemed as if he had never really had a choice in that, either, and she was about to drive him mad.

And then there was the issue of how to destroy a very-much-mortal evil overlord without tipping his hand or paving the way for a successor. If only there were a how-to book entitled "Banishing Evil: How to Destroy a Dark Lord – and Save the World in the Process."

A magical indicator hovering next to the potion began to flash, indicating that it was time for three clockwise stirs and three anti-clockwise stirs to finish combining the ingredients. Picking up a glass rod, he performed the task quickly, and then doused the flame. Just as he was about to pour the completed salve into a small tin, he heard a knock at the door.

Bracing himself for a potential battle of the wills, he muttered, "Enter."

Granger peered around the edge of the door, distracted for a moment at the sight of the lab but clearly anxious about coming face-to-face again with Severus.

After a tense silence, Severus spoke. "Are you ready to stop acting like a petulant child?" he asked with one raised eyebrow.

"That depends," she replied as she walked into the room and crossed her arms defensively. "Are you ready to stop treating me like one?"

"Will you stop hiding critical information from me?"

"Will you stop insulting me and taking whatever you want without regard for my well being?"

He winced a bit at that, but then his eyes narrowed in irritation. "Will you stop answering my questions with questions?"

Her lips quirked up a bit in amusement. "Will you?"

Her face sobered at the sight of the scowl that appeared on his face, and she took a deep breath. "Okay, I admit that I should have given you full disclosure on everything, but I've spent the last three years thinking that you betrayed us all. I can't just turn that off. The last few days have been … difficult, and this here, with you, well … it's too much, too fast, you know? I can't process it that quickly. I wasn't ready to talk about it."

He was quiet while he finished packaging and labeling the salve. Then he scooped out some to apply to his hand while he spoke. "I can understand that, Miss Granger, just as I hope you understand that the information you withheld was and is of utmost importance to our situation. You should have told me sooner."

He saw her hesitate a moment before jerking her head in reluctant agreement. He continued, "I will endeavor to earn your trust; however, please understand that we do not have the luxury of time. You need find a way to get over your prejudice toward me so you can trust me wholly and completely, and soon, or we will fail."

She watched his long fingers massage the salve into the small cuts and bruises that littered his right hand. "I understand. But I do have a few conditions of my own, if you don't mind."

At that, he looked up at her with equal parts curiosity and apprehension in his eyes. "If you feel it is necessary …"

"I do."

A slight wave of his hand gave her permission to proceed.

"I am no longer your student, and you need to stop treating me like one. This must be an equal partnership, where we both use our skills and talents where and when appropriate, and we step back and listen to each other where and when appropriate. Also, if I am going to be sharing what I know with you, I ask that you do the same with me."

"You remember that I am magic-bou—"

"Yes, I know there are some things you can't tell me," she interjected. "But there are many more things you _can_ tell me, and I expect you to do so."

He paused while he sorted that one through in his head, looking for loopholes, but after finding none, he nodded. "Very well, then. Equal partners and full disclosure. Anything else before we seal this agreement with our blood and the sacrifice of our enemy's firstborn?"

Her eyes widened in horror, causing Severus to smirk. "Oh, do stop gaping, Granger. It was a joke."

She gave an exasperated huff. "See, that's another thing. You don't joke. You don't tease. You've always just been …" She paused to find the right words.

He sighed and rolled his eyes before inserting, "A bastard. Yes, I know. You may have mentioned it a time or two."

"No! I mean, well … yes, but not only that. You've always been deadly serious, angry and paranoid. That, I can predict and know how and when to respond. I don't know what to do with a Snape who doesn't act that way."

"Look, Granger. You may have known me for several years, but the reality is that you do not know me at all, nor I you. I am a living, breathing human being, not a machine. Therefore, I feel emotions the same as you – anger and suspicion, obviously, but also sadness, happiness and fear. And while I know you are a bossy little swot who always runs headlong into trouble like a good little Gryffindor, I am quite sure there is more to you than that. We must therefore learn to know, accept and trust each other if we are to work together. It will not be easy, I assure you. But, based on recent events, including that memory I saw, it would seem we are doomed to suffer each other's presence no matter what we think about it."

She was silent for a moment, then she thrust out her hand. "Well, then. Let's start over. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Hermione Granger."

He looked at her in shock. Her face was open, her expression friendly. When was the last time anyone had looked at him that way, without fear, mistrust or at least an ulterior motive? _Never, or at least not since Lily … _He waffled for a moment, but then, making his choice, he reached out his own hand and grasped hers firmly. "And I am Severus Snape. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger."

"Hermione."

"Pardon?"

"My name is Hermione. If we are to be equals, then I refused to be called Miss Granger like an ickle firstie."

He raised an eyebrow in surprise, but he couldn't argue with that logic. "You have a valid point … Hermione. And since I am no longer your professor, you may call me the Most Honorable Lord Snape."

She gaped at him for a moment, then her eyes narrowed. "And that was another joke. Very well, Lord Snape – or should I say, Your Excellency?" she said in a voice laced with sarcasm.

"Severus will do."

She smiled up at him warmly, and at that moment he realized he still had hold of her hand. With a slight flush in his cheeks, he gave it a firm shake and quickly let go before turning back to the mess on the workbench.

/

_Well, that went better than I expected,_ thought Hermione. She nearly sagged with relief when he turned away to clean up the cauldron he had just been using. With shaky hands, she once again smoothed down her hair, and then she took a deep breath and let it out slowly in an effort to calm her nerves.

She took a brief moment to look at the small but well stocked lab in which they were standing. A long granite-topped workbench took up the center of the room. It had three separate workstations equipped with burners, cauldron stands and other essentials. Shelves, cupboards and counters lined three of the walls, and a deep sink occupied one corner. A variety of cauldrons hung from hooks in the ceiling, and she could see a door that was partly open to reveal a closet full of carefully labeled ingredients sorted in the same system Snape … _Severus_ … used at Hogwarts. Finished potions and salves were stacked neatly on an apothecary shelf located near the door.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling the smell of the room. It was somewhat familiar to Hogwarts, minus the dank smell of the ancient dungeon.

"As you can see, this lab is equipped with enough ingredients and potions to see us through just about any common malady, injury or other problem we may encounter during our time here," Severus said, interrupting her reverie. She opened her eyes and turned to look at him. He was drying his hands with a white towel, having finished cleaning up his workstation.

"There are a number of dangerous ingredients in here for some of the more questionable potions in my repertoire. I advise you to think and ask before touching anything you do not recognize. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir … uh, Severus."

He smirked slightly, then leaned back against a counter and folded his arms in front of his chest. "Go ahead. I can see you have questions. Ask them."

"It's just … earlier, while I was in my room, I was thinking about the task ahead of us. Vol— You Know Who is mortal, so all we have to do is find a way to kill him. I just thought that there must be some potion or spell that could do the job. Maybe even _Avada Kedavra_. And if not, we could always use Muggle weapons or sheer physical force. But the question is, where do we start? When? And how?"

He dropped his head and studied his dragonhide boots for a moment before answering. "If only it were that simple. He may be mortal, but he is also very cunning and exceedingly paranoid. It will not be easy to slip him a potion or catch him unawares. He is also very well protected by fiercely loyal followers. True, there may be some who regret their actions, but their fear of reprisal outweighs their desire to do anything to betray him. They are certainly outnumbered by those who believe with every fiber of their being that the notion of pureblood supremacy is righteous, noble and worth dying to defend. And then there are those of his followers who would eagerly step in to fill his shoes should he be defeated."

He paused, seeming to weigh his next words very carefully. Looking up and meeting her eyes, he said, "Whatever plan we come up with must be entirely foolproof. It must not only destroy the Dark Lord but also destroy any possibility of an uprising. There will be no second chance at this."

"But you yourself said we don't have the luxury of time! A plan that would not only consider but also neutralize every possible threat would take months to work out, months to execute! Who knows what horrors will take place while we sit and wait?"

"I am aware of that!" he replied, his voice rising in irritation. "However, I believe we need time to make sense of where things stand at the moment. The Dark Lord has only just defeated the Order. His next move is known only to himself. We should not act until I have returned to him and received not only my orders but also plans for the new regime. The consequences will be unfortunate, but we cannot risk moving too soon."

Her eyes went wide. "But … but people will _die_ while you are off playing Death Eater!"

In a voice as cool as ice, he replied, "Welcome to the hell that is my life."

She slumped onto the nearest stool. It had not truly occurred to her that while Severus had spent decades spying for the Order, he must have seen things too terrible to name, all the while unable to act for fear of betraying his secrets. Yet without the information he fed to the Order, many, many more would have suffered. He had to allow bad things to happen in order to pave the way for the greater good.

"How do you stand it?" she whispered. She could feel him studying her intently, but she couldn't bear to look into his eyes.

After a moment, she heard him speak softly. "I hardly can, some days. But I do what I must, with the hope that someday, it will all have been worth it – that the sacrifices I and countless others have made will make a difference and lead to a brighter future for our world. I do what I must, and you will, as well."

Tears filled her eyes and her head dropped into her hands as she thought about the difficult road ahead. It was already too much; how could she bear more?

Severus pushed off the bench and came to stand in front of her. "Granger … Hermione, you can do this. _We_ can do this. And it will come to an end. Not today, not even tomorrow, but the prophecy was clear that it will end. And frankly, I put a lot more faith in the truth of a centaur's prophecy than in one made by a crazy witch masquerading as a Seer. After all, look where that one got us."

She scrubbed at her eyes one last time, then looked up at him. "You're right. As much as I want it to be finished now, I know that acting rashly won't help anything. We'll wait, we'll plan, and we'll act when the time is right."

"Indeed. Now, if you are quite finished, we still have much to discuss before I am Summoned back to his side."

"When will that be?"

"That is unknown, but I would not count on having more than another day – two at most – before I am called. We need to prepare for that. Now, shall we?"

Hermione nodded her head and followed him as he turned and swept out of the room. He wasn't wearing robes, so the effect was somewhat diminished, but the Snape flair was still there, even in jeans and a plaid shirt. She couldn't help but shake her head. _Some things will never change._

/

The rest of the day was spent with Severus showing Hermione the rest of the cottage and the grounds. In addition to the rooms she had already seen, the cottage had a large walk-in pantry filled with supplies and a three-season back porch complete with a fireplace and some cozy, if mismatched, furniture. There was a thriving ingredients garden that, like the rest of the cottage, had been in stasis until yesterday, so every plant was healthy and lush. A few benches lined the path that wound among the beds and trees that dotted the clearing. It was picturesque, and it would have been an ideal vacation spot if the situation were any less tragic.

Along the way, Severus explained the magical properties of the house and grounds. _Yes, it is under a Fidelius Charm. Yes, it is larger inside than outside, but no, it cannot be expanded magically given that it is already at its magical limits. No, the house is not sentient in the same way Hogwarts is. No, it does not function like a Room of Requirement, and yes, supplies will run out. No, one cannot Apparate from within the house or grounds. No, the floo is not connected to the Floo Network. No, one cannot send or receive owls. Honestly, what is it about the term 'safe house' that you do not understand, Granger? Everything must be brought in or taken out through the perimeter wards and only by someone who has been added to the blood wards, and currently only I fit that description, which is something we must change. And no, that does not mean that it is absolutely secure. Nothing is completely failsafe._

Severus also explained the other wards and enchantments that protected the property, and he showed her where the boundaries lay. Finally, he took her to the front door, where he withdrew a small silver dagger.

"I need to add you to the wards. Anyone who tries to enter the home without having the correct blood signature or explicit permission by someone with an approved signature will be thwarted, if they have even managed to get past the perimeter wards intact, which is highly unlikely."

"'Thwarted?' What is that supposed to mean?"

Severus raised an eyebrow before replying, quite matter-of-factly, "It means they better hope someone comes behind them with a basket to pick up the pieces."

He could see the wheels turning in the girl's head while she worked out the imagery. A shudder ran through her body before she turned back toward the door, squared her shoulders and raised her chin in an effort to prepare herself for the inevitable.

"What do you need from me?" she asked.

"Your wand arm, if you please."

Hermione raised her right arm, and he grasped her hand with his left. Turning her hand palm up, he raised the dagger in his right hand and murmured, "Quod potest transire sanguine, quod tutatur cruor – patitur sanguinem in hoc circulo."*

On the last word, he swiftly drew the dagger across her palm directly through her lifeline. She gasped in pain and instinctively tried to pull her hand away, but he held firm. After a moment, in which they both watched the blood pool in her palm, he raised her arm and pressed her hand against the doorjamb. The blood smeared across the wood, then glowed briefly before sinking into the surface, leaving no trace behind.

Magic crackled around them as the spell took effect. A moment later, her hand was healed and all traces of blood removed with an efficient spell from Severus. And with that, they headed into the cottage to continue their discussion over dinner.

**A/N: Thank you for reading. I hope you'll take a moment to tell me what you think of this story so far. Reviews help feed the creative beast.**

* "Blood that may pass, blood that protects – allow this blood into the circle." (Translation by Google Translate – an imperfect tool, I realize.)


End file.
